


Discordia's Smile

by Alessio_Ricci



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Dark Knight (2008)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2017-11-20 00:13:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alessio_Ricci/pseuds/Alessio_Ricci
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roughly five years after the events in "The Dark Knight", Dr Harleen Quinzel is contacted by the head of Arkham's Psychiatric department, and asked to take on the position of psychiatrist for the infamous terrorist, The Joker. Her experiences with him slowly lead to the eventual collapse of her internal perception of order and morality as he seeks to free her of all restraint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What is madness?

"Psychiatry: The branch of medicine concerned with the study, treatment, and prevention of disorders of the mind; especially those who are mentally unbalanced or deranged"

 

Chapter One

 

"A man kills his whole family. Mother, father, and two brothers. He stabs each of them multiple times in the neck with a switch blade, ambushing them in different locations; a back alley where one brother bought pot, outside the barber shop where the father's hair was cut, in a favorite park of the mother, you get the gist. His killing spree lasts three and a half hours. After being caught, he claims it was all done in worship of a demon that speaks to the man at night. One question. Answer if you can; is this man insane? And if so in what way? Is it a chemical imbalance in the brain, in which case it might be corrected with medication? Or was this man the subject of some childhood trauma which leads him to seek comfort in wacky delusions? Or was it something else? Something that suggests that his behavior was not crazy but in fact the result of rational thought? The point I'm trying to make is this, madness is relative. Like beauty. One person might say this man is crazy, another might not. That's where I come in. I'm the person who makes the educated guess. I decide what madness is." 

A smile crossed the deep red lips of Dr. Harleen Quinzel as she lowered her fork to her plate, her speech finished. She was sitting in La Casa Rosa, a quaint Italian restaurant not two blocks from her apartment, with her closest friend Jamie Farland and his new girlfriend Kaylee Field. 

"What is it with you and complicated answers Harley?" said Jamie, his voice a mix of exasperation and amusement.

"I'm a complicated person." piped Harleen with a wink, her mouth full of pasta. Kaylee seemed more than satisfied with the answer to her question however, leaning forward, her eyes betraying keen interest. 

"Don't be rude Jamie!" she said, playfully slapping him on the arm before turning back to Harleen, "I think that's the most interesting description of psychiatry I've ever heard, and well...I haven't heard many but that one really made me think!"

"Yeah...twas bit bloody for my taste." Said Jamie, yawning as he spoke. Harleen grinned at him, rolling her eyes.   
"You were always squeamish." 

"And you always had a thing for gore! I still remember your eyes when you told me about your dissections in med school, like cutting up a human brain was Christmas come early to you!" Jamie was grinning and laughing while he spoke. 

"Oh come on, what's the big deal, it's not like they were alive!" 

"Exactly!"

"You'd prefer they were alive?" Harleen was laughing too now. She felt good, active. She enjoyed going out for dinner with Jamie, and Kaylee seemed amiable enough, if a little dim.

"Well don't listen to him," said Kaylee, putting her hand on Jamie’s arm as she spoke, "I think it's terrific to meet a woman as strong as yourself, I'm very happy to know you." That was a bit keen. Harleen raised her eyebrow with a faint smile, weary of condescension. Sensing hostility from her, Jamie changed the subject.

"Hey Harley, any interesting crazies you've treated that you could tell Kaylee about?" Harleen flinched at this.

"One, call anyone that again and I will break your arm, don't you pretend like I couldn't do it! Two you know I can't talk about my patients!" Jamie, aware that he was doing more harm than good to Harley's mood suddenly became focused on his pasta. To the untrained eye it looked like Harleen had remarkably little control over her emotions for a psychiatrist, but he had known her for a long time, and there were very few times he had known her to have an emotional outburst without allowing herself to. Kaylee still didn't seem to get the que though.

"You must have some interesting clients though Harleen. There's got to be some that I'd have heard of? You don't have to tell me anything about them if you don't want to..."

"I specialize in the criminally insane Kaylee, so yeah, sure there'd be people you've heard of, but I really can't tell you who." Harleen was beginning to become exasperated with this woman. But Kaylee wasn't done yet; she still had one last wrench to throw into her mood. Shifting forwards on her seat, her eyes wide with anticipation and apprehension as if about to find out a great secret, she said, "What about the Joker?" Jamie groaned and put his head in his hands. 

"No." Said Harleen coldly. "Well, it's been good seeing you Jamie. Speak to you soon." And she left the restaurant. She did not acknowledge Kaylee.

"Holy crap what did I say..?" James sighed with exhaustion before answering. 

"She's been petitioning Arkham to allow her to have meeting with the Joker ever since he was caught and sent there. It's been driving her insane. Still...she'll get there eventually, the Joker chews through psychiatrists quicker than you can imagine. She'd probably do well against him; she can be just as childish as that mad man when she feels like it." 

"Really? She seemed so serious."

"That's not Harley, she...let's just say she's never herself around people she doesn't know. Trust me; she has a wicked sense of humor."  
________________________________________________________________________

Harleen stepped out of the cold Gotham air and into her modest, apartment, switching on the heating as she went. It was already dark outside and a light snow was falling, leaving her not only in a sour mood but also freezing as well. Kaylee's words still irritated her, enflaming her sense of pride as well as herself doubt. She ought to be the one studying the Joker, she had looked up every article she could find on him, watched every video, she had even attempted to make a preliminary diagnosis, but without meeting him it was impossible. He was simply too complex. Too enigmatic. 

She tossed her bag onto the couch as she passed by, its contents falling out and onto the floor. She didn't stop to pick it up as she headed straight to her wardrobe to change out of her formal wear; a yellow shirt under a simple red jacket and matching red skirt, and into something more comfortable so that she could do her stretches. She quickly let her blonde hair down from its bun, took off her glasses, which were just for show, and slipped into a pair of bright blue track shorts and a red singlet. She then moved into the open space in front of the bed, kicking clothes to the side of the room with practiced ease, and began to stretch.   
The whole formal outfit had been a show for Kaylee, a game for Harleen. Whenever she met someone new she had a habit of developing a character for them, and being a psychiatrist she knew and understood exactly what it took to develop a complete personality. To an average observer this behavior might look like a defense mechanism born of low self-esteem, but Harley knew herself, and she knew better. As an only child she had developed alone, with few friends. Not because none wanted to be mind you, but because she didn't care for having lots of friends. She just didn't value relationships enough, her own fun was more important. As an adult little changed, she still adored her fun games and personas. At med school she was impetuous and often lazy, some might say emotionally under developed, but her natural intelligence always brought her through into the top five percent of her class.

"Hello gorgeous!" She said, winking playfully at her reflection in the mirror as she stretched, her legs currently splayed in a forward splits and her hands behind her head. Psychiatry had not been her first success; she had gotten into her school on a gymnastics scholarship. She loved gymnastics because of the freedom it had given her, allowing her to move as freely as she wished, as if she had total control over her body. She excelled at it, her small, light and yet compact figure perfect for the demands of the sport. And while she practiced the sport she needed a major, and psychology was the obvious choice to her. Harleen was drawn to psychiatry for the same reason as gymnastics, because of the freedom it gave her. By being able to understand those around her she had been, in her mind, been given a leg up over everyone else. Psychiatry to her was little more than a way of feeling strong.

Her stretches finished, she threw herself onto the bed. Despite her best efforts she hadn't managed to wipe Kaylee's reminder out of her head, that the true goldmine of criminal minds was denied to her. She hopped up onto all fours, deciding that the only way to be rid of her pent up frustration was through some good old fashioned aggression. Rearing up like a wild cat, she began to punch and pull at her least comfortable pillow, screaming at it and throwing it across the room. Outbursts are good way to calm an over active mind, she knew that, and she enjoyed it. Then, as if determined to cut out her fun, the phone began to ring. She hissed at it before turning back to her pillow. Whoever it was, they could wait. The answering machine clicked on.

"Doctor Quinzel?" said a tentative male voice, "Terry she's not answering are you sure this is the right number?" "Yeah I'm sure, leave a message!" Yelled a muffled voice from further away, barely audible over the line. "Alright, um, Doctor Quinzel my name is Doctor Jacob Benowitz, I'm head of the Psychiatric department here at Arkham Asylum, I'm calling in regards to your request to be allowed to meet with our patient known as the Joker. While we-hello?! What was that..?"

"Good evening Doctor, I apologies, I've just come out of the shower and I dropped the phone." Harleen had thrown herself at it and knocked over the table spilling a pot plant and all of its soil onto her carpet. 

"Oh hello, Doctor Quinzel?

"You have me Doctor Benowitz. Now what I do for Arkham?" She said, piling on the charm while attempting to scoop soil back into a pot with her free hand. 

"Well, while we cannot grant your request for an unofficial meeting with the Joker, one of our psychiatrists just quit, the one who was assigned to him. You see, to be honest I think he got to him. Joker's a very disturbed person. Well...a sane person doesn't try to hold and entire city hostage so I guess you know that much, ha-ha." He said, referring to the Joker's 'games' he had played with the people of Gotham. Harleen noted that he sounded like a very nervous man, not used to asserting himself. She wondered how a man like that had achieved such a high position at Arkham.

"A sane person can do a lot of strange things Doctor."

"Mmm, yes indeed. Anyway, while we can't give you what you want, I wondered if you might be interested in coming in for an interview with me to become the Joker's permanent psychiatrist?" Harleen stopped scooping, and breathing for a moment. "You'd see him three times a week and you'd be on call in case he does anything. It would make you a permanent member of the Arkham staff and of course you'd be added to the payroll. I understand that this probably doesn't pay as well as your current position, but we're getting a bit desperate he-" 

"YES!"

"...Sorry?" Harleen paused to contain herself, trying as hard as she could to put back on her air of professionalism over her hyperactive elation before answering.

"I would love to come in for an interview Doctor, the Joker is a personal interest of mine. Does two-thirty Wednesday fit; give me two days to prepare?" She said, taking a minute to assert her dominance over this nervous little man. 

"Really? Um, yes ok that should work, do you know where-" 

"Oh I know the way. Is there anything else Doctor"

"I uh, suppose not..."

"I'll be seeing you soon then, ta." 

"Oh ok, thank you ver-" She hung up the phone. After two seconds of standing totally still she threw herself in front of the mirror, put on her 'doctor' glasses, and posed as if she were holding a clipboard in front of her.

"Hello mister...Joker? Good evening Joker. Doctor Harleen Quinzel, and you must be the Joker? Joker we meet at last! Well hello, Joker..." She grinned at herself, and giggled. "Finally...the Joker."


	2. Glimpse of a Twisted Grin

Chapter Two

 

"Hair pulled into a tight bun, charcoal grey suit pants and jacket, light blue sweater, white collared shirt buttoned to the top, flat shoes, eyeglasses. Serious, hooded eyelids, pursed lips, tense posture, sharp upper-class voice. Father was an English professor at a prestigious college, mother a psychology professor. Parents showed little to no physical affection throughout her childhood. Over critical, no praise, constant pointing out of faults. Only Child. Studied Psychology and English in an attempt to earn parents’ approval. At age seventeen father beats her with a belt for laughing with a friend during an important lecture. Severe bruising of the behind. Lost all sense of humour that day. Severe control and domination issues due to lack of control during childhood. Would be dominatrix if not sexually repressed...” A pause.

"Doctor Jacob Benowitz I assume? Let us make this meeting quick I am an extremely busy woman. My name is Doctor Harleen Quinzel." Harleen stared at herself in the mirror in her apartment. Clothes were strewn across the floor and bed, leaving little else for the eye to view. During the day she had tried a half dozen or so personalities on, all designed to get her through the interview at Arkham and into her position as the Joker's psychiatrist. The man who would be interviewing her, Doctor Benowitz, was a weak willed man not used to asserting himself; she had figured out that much from the phone conversation with him. The character needed to be just right. The current one she had based off of her idea of a school headmaster, and something just seemed lacking. It was too...unlikable. She thought to herself for a moment.

"Hmm...School headmaster is way too severe..." She said out loud. "But...oooh, building on the school premise..." She threw herself a cheeky grin in the mirror before she started throwing off her clothes; Jacket, sweater, glasses, suit pants. She kept the shirt, unbuttoning it by two and adjusting her bra slightly so it was just visible. Then, diving headfirst into the mass pile of clothes at the bottom of her wardrobe, Harleen found her very short red pleated tartan skirt, knee high socks and red high heels. After getting them all on she put her hair up into pigtails and coated thick dark makeup onto her eyes, coupled with red lipstick. "Oh hi, are you Doctor Benowitz?" She said with one hand on her hip and the other twirling in her hair. "I'm SO glad you're cute, this job would be a real drag otherwise. You gonna show me all over? I'm SUPER excited..." Harleen paused for a moment before snorting with laughter. "Yeah right girl, you're going for a job as a psychiatrist, not the role of his daughter's hot friend!" She had a habit of talking to herself, and saw no reason to stop.

Deciding that it was time to have a break and eat something, Harleen bounded across the room to check what food was in the fridge, kicking clothes sky high as she went. She couldn’t have been in a better mood, and it was making her feel more than a little hyperactive. At last she would be given an opportunity to study the one madman that has so far eluded a diagnosis, and she would be the one to crack him open and learn all his juicy secrets. She wasn’t afraid of him, how could she be? He was confined in the maximum security wing at Arkham, and there was no way to escape from there. Not even the Joker could get out. 

In the fridge there was only butter, two carrots both gone mouldy, and two leftover slices of pizza. Harleen did not cook. She took one slice of pizza in each hand and kicked the fridge closed, just as a knocking came from the door of the apartment. She groaned and ignored it, not wanting whoever this was to interrupt her fun.

“Harley, it’s me, you can open the door! I’m here to wish you congratulations!” Came Jamie’s voice from outside, his voice sounding amused. He had known Harleen since she was a teenager, and as her only close friend he was familiar with her many quirks. She switched one piece of pizza to her mouth, giving her a free hand to open the door with, before letting him in. “So I hear th-“ he started, before pausing and raising his eyebrows. 

“…whegh?” She asked through the pizza. Jamie looked at her, smiling widely. Looking down, she realized that she was still wearing her school girl outfit. Harleen snorted with laughter for the second time in one evening, accidentally spitting the pizza onto Jamie. “That’s your piece I guess!” They both shook with laughter as he came in, wiping the pizza onto the floor.

“Oi, pick that up pig!” She yelled, still laughing. 

“Where exactly am I supposed to put it? I think your bin has clothes in it.” Said Jamie, still grinning at her outfit. 

“Give it here.” Harleen poked her head out of her apartment door; no one in the hall. Biting her tongue in concentration she swung her arm twice, the third time letting the pizza fly. And fly it did, straight down the stairwell. She waited for the wet slap of a falling pizza hitting solid ground, before quickly shutting the door. 

“Tell me didn't just do that? You've gotten worse Harley.” He said as he cleared clothes off the couch so he could sit.

“Actually I’m better than ever!” She said with glee, putting the second slice in her mouth. Jamie laughed.

“I haven’t seen you this hyperactive in a very long time. You sure you’ll have calmed down by the interview? Or were you planning on going like this?” He said, nodding at her outfit. Harleen put her hands on her hips.

“You don’t think this works?” 

“Are you the Joker’s stripper?” 

“Yep, that’s what the interview is for.” She said, grinning. “Haha no. Besides, I won’t be at the interview. Doctor Harleen Quinzel, harsh, severe, and commanding, has issues with sexual repression will be!” She pulled her hair up and put on her glasses, pulling a very sour expression. Jamie frowned under her glare.

“Well I wouldn’t want to say no to that person.”

“Hehe, I still haven't decided for certain yet.”

“Well,” he started as he reached for his bag, “take a break for now, I’ve brought the required components of a celebration!” And he pulled a bottle of champagne out. Harleen cheered.

“Oh yes! Gimmie!” She squeaked as she launched herself at the bottle, falling headfirst onto the couch, laughing the whole time.  
________________________________________________________________________

"Doctor Jacob Benowitz I assume? Let us make this meeting quick I am an extremely busy woman. My name is Doctor Harleen Quinzel." Harleen had her hair pulled up into a tight bun and had a very sour expression on her face. She was wearing a pair of half-moon glasses she had bought from a prop store a day before. Her lipstick was an exceedingly dark shade of red. Harleen had taken the school mistress idea and had, in her words to Jamie, added a bit more sex to the character, by adding makeup, removing the jacket and unbuttoning her shirt by two, her blue sweater clinging in all the right places. 

“Oh ok, certainly. So how long do I have?” Said the head of Arkham’s psychiatric department. Harleen still wondered how this little man had reached such a high position here. Jacob Benowitz was half a head smaller then her, and she was not a tall woman. He looked to be roughly forty-five and had a small bald patch on the top of his head, which only served to exaggerate how egg shaped it was, and a short yet bushy moustache. He wore a small pair of round glasses and stood with his hands clasped in front of him expectantly, as if just waiting to be told what to do. A meeker little man there never was, thought Harleen. This was going to be easy.

“We’ll see, shall we begin?” 

“Yes, yes of course, follow me and I’ll show you to my office.” The halls of Arkham were a dull pastel grey, as opposed to the usual hospital beige. It seemed almost as if the building was designed to be grim. The walls were old and she could see many stains and chips in them as she went. Rust clung to all of the doors and bars and each squeaked horribly as they passed through. "My office isn't far, just up this up this hall and to the left."

"I was under the impression that Arkham was a prestigious asylum, and yet here it is in terrible repair. And where are all the inmates?" Commented Harleen, noting the row after row of empty cells.

"Well uh, it's the same answer to both those questions actually." Began the doctor, "The Dent Act. After it was put in place less and less criminals have been granted the insanity plea. It's been getting worse and worse over the years, it's really a shame. I mean, it's not like all those people were faking right?"

"I would not be surprised at all Doctor Benowitz, given the man with your job at the time." She said, referring to Doctor Jonathan Crane, who had turned out to be testing an experimental fear gas on patients. He was now one of the many at Gotham's Blackgate prison.

"Oh, yes. Very unfortunate business that. Well, you see as our number of inmates dropped so did our funding. The only real funding we get these days goes into paying for the Joker's absurdly expensive security. It seems all Arkham Asylum is now is one big prison for the Joker. This is my office." He said, leading her into a small room with a desk, two chairs and little else. Harleen took a moment to sit before voicing her next question.

"How many times has the Joker attempted to escape?"

"Not even once. It's bizarre I know but true, he's been extremely well behaved. The only trouble we get from him is the occasional bad joke!" He laughed nervously, rubbing his hand across his bald patch. Harleen was using all her willpower to stop herself from smiling at the idiot in front of her. 

"I see, and that hasn't struck you as odd doctor, from a man of his reputation?" 

"Oh just wait until you see Joker Wing, you'll understand then." Said the doctor with his first genuine smile.

"Joker Wing?"

"It's what the guards call the old maximum security wing. When the Joker was captured we received a large sum of money to update it into the Joker Wing. And even without it, there isn't much he could really do to escape. He has no money and no one works for him anymore." 

"I wouldn't presume to know this man if I were you doctor." Said Harley, barely containing her excitement. "So, let's begin this interview."  
The doctor smile became nervous again. "Well, we've already seen your paperwork and credentials so that's done. To be honest we're not actually having anyone else in for an interview, we've been pretty desperate to find someone for him for a while now."

"On the phone you informed me that his psychiatrist had 'just quit'."

"Well yeah he did but we've known he was leaving for quite a while." 

"I see."

"So...well after speaking to you I can tell you're more than fit for the job!" The doctor had begun to sweat and didn't seem to want to continue the conversation any longer. Afraid of powerful women, Harleen thought to herself. "So um, would you like it?" This was the oddest job interview she had ever been to. Never the less, she had the job. But she couldn't let that affect her now; she had a character to maintain. 

"I am inclined to say yes, Doctor Benowitz, my professional interest in the Joker being considerable. However I cannot accept without first viewing Joker Wing personally. I presume as the head of psychiatry you have access?" The little man shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 

"Well...I suppose I could. I'll just get permission from the warden then?"

"Please do, I will wait here." 

"Well...ok, give me a moment to get today's codes from the warden. I shouldn’t be too long Doctor. And um...welcome to Arkham." He said with a faint smile, before disappearing out of the door. Harleen took this moment to examine his meagre office more closely. It was remarkably sparse. Too sparse. There were no photos, no plants, not even a graduation certificate on display. Just a blank desk and two old chairs. An explanation was given when she stood and looked behind his desk. Placed just next to his seat was a cardboard box, full of all the office essentials such as his degree to hang on the wall, photos of family, and office supplies. The Doctor had only just been given the job. She checked the plaque on his door, which she had not paid attention to before. It said, "Doctor Thomas Harland, Head of Psychiatry". Now she understood. The doctor who had quit, the Joker's psychiatrist, had been the head of psychiatry, and with him gone, the role had fallen onto this balding, nervous little man. Harley sniggered quietly to herself at the thought of Doctor Benowitz attempting to give the infamous Joker council. No wonder he was so keen to hire her.   
At that point he shuffled back into the doorway, "Doctor Quinzel, would you like to come with me now? I'll give you a quick tour of Joker Wing."

"Of course, show me." The exhilaration was starting to build, she felt nervous, as if she were holding her breath. Doctor Benowitz led her out of his office and down toward the main corridor.

"You should get anything you have that's metal ready; you'll have to pass through the sensor equipment before you get it." She took off her necklace, earrings, and glasses. The glasses were actually plastic, but he needn’t know just how cheap they were. "Keys, change, that sort of thing?" He enquired. She pulled out her keys and wallet just as they reached the entrance of the Wing. Two large metal doors flanked by guards stood before them. The doors looked new and modern, out of place within the crumbling asylum.

"Doctor Benowitz, go on through. Who's this?" Asked the guard on the right, gesturing towards Harleen. 

"New doctor for the Joker Denny, I've got the warden's permission to give her a tour of the wing."

"Go on through." Said the guard, punching in a code on the keypad to the right of the door. The door buzzed and swung open, revealing yet another hallway, this one with a dingy common off to the right through a large archway. Guards sat around a table, watching a sports match on a small television. Mounted on the wall was a large weapons rack, holding a variety of riot and suppression gear. 

"The wing is patrolled at all times, so we converted that old office into a place for the guards on break to relax." Said the doctor as he walked her down the hall. At the end of the hallway was a second set of metal doors. A guard sat behind bars in a security checkpoint to the left of them. Guns were mounted on the wall behind him. 

“Doc. Got today’s code?” Said the burly guard manning the station.

“I do, I do. D’you have a pen?” He was handed a pen and a small piece of paper on which to write. Leaning over the desk, he scribbled something on the paper before turning it around and showing it to the guard. After giving it a brief examination the guard nodded, and buzzed them through, into yet another corridor. “This will be where you’ll treat him.” Said Doctor Benowitz, gesturing into a small simple room with a metal table and two matching metal chairs. “See that ring on the table? That’s used to handcuff him to it when you meet. We take your safety very seriously.”

“And where is he kept?” Asked Harleen, struggling not to sound tentative. Doctor Benowitz pointed down the hall to the large metal door at the end, the huge turn lock on the front making it look more like a bank vault than a prison cell.

“In there.” He said simply. Harleen's breath slowed as she stared at the door containing the Joker.

"Could I see him?" She asked quietly. The doctor didn't seem to notice her momentary character lapse; he was far too uncomfortable here. 

"Well...you could look through the slit but I don't have permission to take him out I'm afraid."

"That will be fine." Her heart began to race as they walked towards the door. One guard stood by the side of it. 

"Could you open the slit Max? Doctor Quinzel would like to see him." The guard looked at her wearily before turning to punch in a code on a small keypad on the door. With a slight screech a small rectangular hole slid open in the door, just big enough for her to look through.

"Go ahead." Said the guard gruffly. Stay strong Harleen, maintain character, she thought to herself as her heart picked up pace. Slowly lowering herself to the slit, she glimpsed the room beyond. It was a tiny grey cell with a small cot at the end and little more. There was no window, only a small light on the ceiling. On the ground in front of the bed sat the hunched figure of the Joker, his legs up and his arms resting between them, his head hanging low, hiding his face. His hair was light brown, not dyed green like in the video's she had seen. He looked so...normal compared to what she had imagined. Just as she was about to pull away, he moved. Slowly his head lifted, and she caught sight of his scars, like two jagged swirls of twisted flesh extending from either side of his mouth, and his mouth, which was slightly open in a dulled grimace, showed rows of yellow uneven teeth. His facial expression could be best described as mild irritation, as if his prison were a slight drizzle in an otherwise perfect day. And as he raised his head, their eyes met. His eyelids hung low. He looked bored with her, and in that moment, she saw the intelligence in them, and knew that he was more than just a crazed mad man. Just as she knew what he was, so, in that instant, did he know her. Harleen's harsh character softened, and for a brief second she was scared. A scared little girl staring at the devil, and he could tell. His distorted mouth re-formed into a wide grin, his scars stretching in sickening ways. And he began to laugh. Gently at first, then slowly building volume and enthusiasm until he reached a terrifying crescendo, his laughs ricocheting across the room towards her. Harleen backed away from the slit urgently.

"Back to your office Doctor!"

"Doctor Quinzel are you-" 

"Do as I say Benowitz!" She hissed. He took the cue and hurriedly showed her back down the hall, the Joker's laughter chasing them away. She took one moment to look back. The guard was struggling to input the code that would close the slit, and she could see the Joker's distorted mouth and scars pressed to the gap in his door as he laughed. As she tuned to leave the laughter stopped long enough for him to roar two words which frightened her more than his laughter ever could.

"YOU'RE MINE!!!"


	3. A General Rule

Chapter Three

"Again, I'm so so sorry about the Joker's behavior, he's never done anything like that before. He hasn't laughed like that since the day he was brought in!" Said Doctor Jacob Benowitz hurriedly. Harleen was standing with him just outside Arkham Asylum's main entrance. 

"His behavior doesn't bother me Doctor Benowitz, it merely interests me." She said, desperate to maintain her cold persona. "Now, when is my first meeting with him?"

"Oh, well his next meeting would be at two, Saturday. Um, what you'll need to do is come in here and speak to the warden; he'll give you the day's code for the guards, then just head on down to Joker Wing. At the end of next week you file a report on his progress and send it to me. Simple really." 

"Very well, goodbye doctor." Said Harleen, turning and leaving without a backwards glance. She was still severely rattled by the way the Joker had looked at her, and what he had yelled. 'You're mine' was not something she wanted the world’s most dangerous known terrorist yelling at her. She needed to get away from this asylum and back to the comfort of her apartment so that she could feel calm again. For the first time since receiving the news she was having second thoughts. She was almost reduced to nothing just by looking at him, how could she actually expect to stay alone in a room with that mad man for an hour while attempting to have him share his secrets.

"You were so confident, you idiot!" She muttered to herself as she pulled into her car park. "You were so sure you'd get to the heart of him and all it took was one look and poof, you're a scared little girl!" She headed into the lobby and towards the stair well, noticing that the piece of pizza she had thrown was starting to go moldy. She made a mental note to let the landlord know, she didn't want the building to get vermin. 

Her first experience of the Joker had left her feeling horribly unsafe. Everywhere she turned she couldn't help but wonder if something was about to jump out at her, or was following her. She ran up the stairs to her apartment on the fourth floor and slammed the door behind her. Harleen stood with her back to the door for a moment, taking in the silence around her, trying as hard as she could to calm herself, but still she felt that foreboding sense of dread when thinking of those twisted, laughing scars pressed to the open slit on the cell door. 

"You're mine..." Harleen whispered to herself. She hated him for saying those words to her. "You're mine. You're mine. You're mine! YOU'RE MINE! YOU'RE MINE!!!!" She screamed the words into a pillow over and over again until her voice was quiet and raspy, punching it and biting at it and crying into it. She had never felt more powerless than in those five seconds when her eyes had met the Joker's. It made no sense for her to have reacted like that! "It was stupid and weak and now HE knows just how weak you are!" She screeched into the pillow staining it with her tears. She felt nothing but shame. The Joker was the only person who would have been aware of what he had done to her, but what good was that. He was the only person smart or powerful enough to have had that reaction from her. It didn't matter what anyone else's opinions were, she just didn't want HIM to know that he had that kind of power over her. Only his opinion mattered. 

After ten minutes of raging Harleen had no choice but to accept that her anger was not going away. She needed to be distracted. Crawling slowly off the bed, her body exhausted, she reached for the phone. 

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"This is the place. What do you think?" Said Jamie with a huge grin, waving his hand triumphantly towards the restaurant in front of them.

"Aha, wow..." Exclaimed Kaylee, her hands clasped in front of her mouth. "How on earth did you get a reservation at Lufort?? ...More to the point how exactly can you afford this on a nurses salary?" Jamie kissed her gently before answering.

"Oh I...shouldn't really say." 

"Oh no, you're not keeping that secret from me! Spill!" She insisted, holding him close.

"...Ok well the owner's been coming in for chemo-therapy lately, and I was assigned to take care of hm. We got talking and, well I was around him every day, and he ended up offering me a reservation here. No charge if I tell them my name. You, my beautiful, can order whatever you want, and as much you want." Kaylee was just short of jumping for joy, her mouth stretched into as wide a grin as Jamie could imagine.

"I can't believe you, this is incredible! Regardless of how the rest of the night goes, I am declaring this best date ever!" She said, kissing him playfully on the mouth before turning and heading towards the doors. At that point, Jamie's mobile began to ring. He grimaced.

"Hold that thought." He said, answering the phone tentatively. 

"Jamie..?" Said a weak voice on the other end of the line. 

"...Harley?"

"Mmm." 

"Are you ok?" 

"...No." Whispered Harleen's voice in a monotone. Jamie's heart sunk. If Harleen didn't get the job with the Joker...he had seen her tantrums before, and they weren't something he wanted to see her go through again. 

"Oh dear...what is it Harley? Did you not get the job?" He asked tenderly. Kaylee was standing by the door to the restaurant, her hands on her hips expectantly. He gestured that he would be just a moment.

"No, I got the job." Came her voice, again, monotone. He knew that tone of voice all too well. What could have happened?

"Well that's brilliant! Congratulations! Hey Kaylee, Harley got the Joker job!" 

"Oh wow, tell her congrats!" And hurry up, she mouthed. A light rain had begun to fall and Kaylee was beginning to look uncomfortable. But Jamie still didn't know what was wrong with Harleen. 

"You must be really excited? When do you start?" He said, hoping to lighten her mood. Her answer was far from light.

"Jamie...I saw the Joker and...he scared me. He yelled...something at me and laughed." These words and her blank voice scared him. She had been working as a psychiatrist for criminals for two years. She'd been threatened more than once and he'd never known it to rattle her like this. "I...I don't feel safe. I don't want to be alone." There it was, the plea he knew was coming. The end to his perfect date with Kaylee. But he needed to go, Harleen needed him, and he couldn't leave her like that when she needed someone to take care of her. 

"Ok...hang up. I'll be right over." She hung up without answering. He sighed, looking over at Kaylee who was smiling over at him while simultaneously trying to keep her hair dry. Straightening up, he walked over to break the news about their perfect date. 

 

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Harleen hung up the phone and smiled. The monotone had always been perfect for getting her what she wanted when it came to Jamie. He had been with Kaylee; she had heard him speak to her. "Probably out on a date or something." She said out loud, desperate to break the silence of her apartment. Harleen didn't feel bad for cutting Jamie and Kaylee's night short; she didn't particularly like Kaylee and didn't expect them to last long; Jamie was too smart for a girl like her. 

Lying back on a pile of clothes, Harleen could see in the far corner of the room a fly buzzing incessantly, continuously bumping into the corner again and again as if determined to break it down. “SHUT UP!!” Screeched Harleen. She followed this with a slight giggle and an insight. “You, Doctor Harleen Frances Quinzel,” she began, “are caught in a contradictory state of desire. Your desire to have the silence in your room broken; a desire which is derived from your want for distraction from your thoughts, is conflicting with your want for the DEATH OF A STUPID NOISY FLY!!” She screeched again, throwing a sock in its general direction before following it with yet another giggle. “The fly can’t hear you doctor, it’s far too focused on crushing its own head against your wall. Do flies have ears I wonder? Perhaps you ought to put that question to the Joker; a learned man such as him would surely be able to lend you some insight on the matter. If I really am yours Mister Joker, KILL THAT STUPID FLY FOR ME!!!” And with that she stopped screaming, silence once again settling into her apartment. 

It seemed like an hour before she moved again, the silence finally overcoming her exhaustion and laziness. She liked to think that exhaustion was the primary factor but she knew in truth that it wasn’t.   
“Music!” She moaned sleepily, tossing another sock towards her stereo. “Come on Harley,” she said to herself, “wake up, get active and jump around or something…” Her business skirt and top were beginning to feel ridiculously constrictive, considering her limbs were all splayed in different directions in an odd representation of a human spider. She began to writhe and twist on her pile of clothes, her arms and legs working their bizarre dance until somehow all that was left on was her red bra and underwear. Feeling the cold air prickling against her exposed skin gave her the strength to lift herself out of her clothes pile in order to put on some music. She flipped through her meager cd collection, searching for something with a fast beat that could distract her and lift her mood. She settled for a fast paced techno track, the sort of music you would find playing at a rave. She turned the stereo up stepped back as the beat kicked in, a deep fast paced pulse that could make her whole body shudder. After taking half a second to appreciate the quality of her speakers, she began to jump, climbing up onto her bed. She kicked her legs out into the air and threw pillows across the room, before running across the apartment to pick them up and throw them again, before returning to her jumping. 

A knocking was coming from the front door but Harleen's choice of music drowned it out. Jamie, surprised by the apparent techno club seemingly present in his close friend’s apartment, decided to test the front door, and finding it unlocked, he let himself in. He had two containers of noodles under his arms; he knew Harleen wouldn't have eaten in her bad mood. Which is why he was extremely surprised to walk in on her jumping up and down on her bed laughing like a madwoman wearing nothing but skimpy red underwear. Reaching over to her power point, which was just right of the door, he switched off her stereo. She spun around suddenly, noticed him, and screamed, falling behind the bed and onto her pile of clothes. Jamie shut the front door just as she popped up angrily. 

"Don't you knock!?" She yelled, her hand on the end on the bed as she brushed blonde her hair out of her eyes.

"I did knock actually, you didn't seem to be hearing me. Maybe you shouldn't have that music so loud? You're going to get complaints." 

"And you thought it would be ok to just scare the crap out of me!?" Harleen's hands were on her hips as she scolded him. She was still only wearing her skimpy underwear and Jamie didn't seem to know where to look. Harleen didn't seem fazed at all, not even bothering to cover up with a blanket. 

"Harley would you put some clothes on? If you're going to be looking like that I'm going to find it hard to play the role of comforting friend...or loyal boyfriend for that matter." He said, covering his eyes gingerly with his forearm. 

"Would serve you right." She muttered as she searched her floor for a pair of shorts and a top.

"Oh the horror." He muttered back cheekily. Harleen made him the next victim of her throwing sock. After finding something to wear she climbed over the back of the couch and sat with her feet crossed underneath her, motioning for him to sit. "I've brought you something to eat, I guessed that you hadn't cooked." He said smiling. Harleen scoffed.

"I don't cook! Thank you though, I needed to eat something. I'm starving! What took you so long? ...what's wrong?" Jamie had stopped smiling, and wasn't handing Harleen her food. 

"You're fine aren't you?" He asked quietly, his brow furrowed in indignation. 

"What?"

"When you called me you sounded mortified. You said the Joker had scared you senseless and you couldn't be alone. But here I am and you’re fine. You know I had an amazing date with Kaylee lined up and I dropped it all for you just like that! But when I get here you're fine and all you have to say is what took you so long?!" He looked as if her were about to lose his temper, but Harleen knew how to handle him. Lifting her fist into the air, she brought it down on the coffee table with all her strength. The wood cracked and her fist had blood on it; enough to snap Jamie out of his anger and back into carer mode. A childish tantrum thing to do maybe, but she knew that hurting herself would shut him up. Harleen was aware that she was being horribly selfish, but right now she didn't care. She didn't like being yelled at. 

"Jesus Harley stop that! Harley what's going on? What's wrong?" Said Jamie, putting down the food and hastily clasping her bleeding hand in his. After a moment he began rummaging around in his bag, searching for band aids. After his mother became sick and died when he was a teenager Jamie had developed an undying need to take care of others, Harleen thought to herself at lightning speed. 

"Caring stops him feeling helpless." She muttered under her breath accidently. 

"What's that Harley?" He said, finally pulling out the band aids and putting one over her knuckles. Harleen looked worriedly up at him, blinking rapidly, her long eyelashes swatting the air.

"The Joker left me feeling helpless." She began, staring blankly ahead. "I asked to see him and...he just started laughing Jamie. He saw right through the character I was using to play the doctor and he just laughed and laughed." Pulling her into a close hug, he whispered into her ear that everything was going to be all right, his anger, and Kaylee, completely forgotten. "What's worse," she continued, "is that as I was leaving he screamed at me...he screamed 'you're mine!' What am I supposed to take from that? I'm so scared of him Jamie he made me feel so weak...I've never felt weak with a patient before..." Her feigned fear and sadness were beginning to become real, her words dredging up the emotions she had only just finished burying. Tears began to roll down her cheeks as she spoke. "He only said two words to me Jamie, how the hell am I supposed to face him for an hour session three times a week!?"

"Calm down Harley...listen the Joker's no idiot, anyone who could pull off what he did has to be smart. He knows you're the one in control and he probably just wanted to scare you. But Harley, you're a genius. All you have to do is not let him scare you and realize that he has nothing to threaten you with. Then all the power is yours." His words sung true to Harleen, which surprised her. Not that she thought he wasn't smart, but he wasn't as smart as her and she didn't expect anyone else to understand how she needed to feel so clearly. It was moment's like this that made her truly appreciate him. 

"But Jamie..." She began, voicing her final concern, "how am I supposed to stop myself from being scared of him? I mean I could pretend I'm not but I think he'd see through it just like he did before. He's smart Jamie." Jamie thought for a second before answering.

"Well, what about your characters? You always said if you try hard enough you could lose yourself in them. Why don't you try and properly lose yourself in one that the Joker can't scare? After your sessions I'll be here to snap you out of it of course. Why don't you wrack your brain and try and figure out a personality that wouldn't be frightened by him?" He said, smiling at her while picking splinters off the floor from the coffee table. Harleen shook her head, knowing that his solution was not an option.

"Jamie, I couldn't do that." She said numbly.

"Why not?"

"Because the only type of person who wouldn't be afraid would have to be just like him."

 

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"Arkham Asylum.", Harleen thought to herself as she stared up at the depressing grey monolith in front of her, "The last place in the world I want to be now." Two day's had passed since she first saw the Joker, and now at long last the time had come for their first session. She was wearing a simple dark blue clinging blouse and a formal work skirt. She wasn't going to try a character on the Joker, she didn't want to risk him seeing through it again. "This is what you wanted Harleen, think of all the hours you put into trying to get a meeting with him, all the time you spent watching the videos of him, reading the reports on his crimes. Don't you chicken out now, right when you have what you wanted." She thought back to watching the video's he had sent to the news, trying to put up a barrier in her mind against him, but it only frightened her more.

"Tell us your name."

"Brian..."

"Are you the real Batman?"

"N...no."

"No??"

"No."

"THEN WHY DO YOU DRESS UP LIKE HIM?!!"

"He's a symbol...that we don't have to be afraid of scum like you!"

"Oh yeah, you do Brian. YOU REALLY DO!"

Harleen shuddered, but could wait outside no longer. She checked her watch; 1:45, her meeting was at two...no more wasting time. She headed into the front office.

"Hello, I'm Doctor Quinzel. I-"

"You the Joker's new squeeze? Yeah, code's to the wing right here." The orderly speaking to her was a slim black man of average height. He had short cut hair, a small goatee covering his chin, and two piercings on his left eyebrow. Quite attractive, she thought to herself. "Nice to meet you Doc', name's Terry." He said, offering his hand, straining to reach over the counter. His cool, friendly attitude shocked her out of her dark mood and made her smile.

"Nice to meet you Terry. I didn't expect such a warm welcome. And, squeeze? I'm the Joker's new psychiatrist, not his new girlfriend." She said, grinning despite herself as she shook his hand.

"Say what you like doc," he said dryly, "but the Joker don't need a psychiatrist. Only thing you'll be to him is eye candy." He was smart. She hoped he wasn't right.

"Let's see if I can prove you wrong eh Terry? And please, call me Harleen." She said, smiling over at him. "Now could I get those codes? I think I'm running late to my first session..." Terry reached down and passed her folded piece of paper.

"Here you go. An hey, nice accent. You from New York?"

"Brooklyn actually."

"No kiddin'! I got some folks back there. Alright, what you need to do is pass that code to the guard at the security checkpoint and he'll let you through. Then just wait in the treatment room, an' the guards will bring him to you. You know the way to Joker Wing?"

"I do. I thought the warden was supposed to be giving me this information?" 

"He usually will be, but he had to rush off today, left the codes with me right here." 

"Is that safe?"

"Nope, but the warden ain't known for being the sensible kind." He said with the slight look of exhaustion. "Anyway, you should get goin'. You don't wanna be late. It was real good meetin' you Harleen." 

"And you Terry." She said, smiling. His kind words had made her feel slightly better about the upcoming meeting. "Alright...let's do this."

 

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Harleen sat quietly in the treatment room on her cold metal chair, waiting for the guards to restrain the Joker so he could be brought out of his cell. The room was not well heated and she felt the hairs on her arms prickling in the cold. She couldn't think how she was going to begin this dialogue, and her fear had returned, but there was little she could do now. Just remember he can't do anything to hurt you, she thought. Nevertheless, she couldn't have been less prepared when at long last she heard the guard walking up the hall towards the room, followed by the slow rattle of chains as the Joker walked beside him. 

"Stay strong Harley. Stay strong Harley." She muttered to herself, her heart beginning to race and pound in her chest as the guard pushed the door open and the Joker entered. His head was bowed as he passed into the room, but once in he quickly looked at her, his head jerking up spontaneously and flashing yellow teeth in what looked like a cross between a grimace and a grin. He was wearing a simple blue patient jumpsuit with the number 001 sewn onto the front. Harleen couldn't help but stare at the scars on his face where an unknown knife had carved his everlasting smile. The guard quickly linked the Joker's handcuffs to the metal ring on his end of the table so that he couldn't move, before turning to leave the room.

"I'll be right outside this door doctor, if you need me, you call. Got it?" She nodded, unable to find words under the Joker's dull glare. The guard closed the door behind him, and Harleen returned her attention to the Joker. He looked skittishly around the room for a few seconds, his gaze jumping to random spots without reason. He was making a high pitched sucking sound as he sucked on his lower lip, his eyebrows raised in what looked like childish wonder of his surroundings. Harleen opened her mouth to speak, but unable to find any words, closed it again. The Joker suddenly fixed her with a blank stare, his face relaxing until it was totally still for the first time. He stared silently into her eyes for a half second before opening his distorted mouth to speak.  
"I'll start then. Is your name real, or is this a joke?" This question caught her completely off guard. His voice was harsh and nasal, and his tone suggested that he wasn't impressed. But she couldn't let him take charge. She had to control the dialogue. Summoning up all her will, she forced words out of her mouth, afraid that her heart would take the opportunity to leap out as well.

"When I first saw you, you screamed at me 'you're mine'. Why?" It was the first question she could think of. Probably not the best question to start with, but she needed to know.

"Because you are, doctor." He responded without the slightest delay. This man was sharp. He seemed so calm and bored, nothing like the crazed maniac who had laughed her out of the building last time. 

"What makes you think that?" She asked, trying not to sound tentative. The Joker grinned, showing rows of yellow teeth before suddenly returning to ignoring her and looking around the room, his tongue darting out and licking the corners of his mouth where the scars began. 

"Joker?" She said strongly. At least that's how she hoped it sounded. It seemed to get his attention however. With startling speed he pressed his face forward on the desk, his hands reaching until the handcuffs pulled tight on the ring with a loud clang, causing Harleen to flinch involuntarily. His lips were curled into a snarl. After a brief second he settled back into his seat, his face blank again. There didn't seem to be any time between has actions and his thoughts, as if he acted the moment a thought came to mind. He raised his eyebrows, fixing her with another dull glare. His eyes were brown, and his eyelids always seemed half closed. She couldn't guess his age, but he had fairly good skin apart from the scars. He would almost have been attractive if not for them, she thought to herself. After a few moments of silence, he opened his mouth again to speak.

"Y'wanna know a general rule doc?" He pressed his hands down onto the table and leaned forward. "People take themselves too seriously. Like, even if they think they don't, they always do. People need to learn that its doing them more harm than good! Y'know, holding themselves back that way. Everyone makes the most important thing ordering their fixed little worlds, but it never goes right! None of these civilized people have perfect lives, and 'cause of that they're always so SAD! An' you know what's worse? They're always scared! Scared their order won't last! They only see the world one way. You see Haarleen," he said, over-enunciating her name, enjoying the sound, "you an' I, we know better. When I saw you, I knew you were playing your own little game with good ol' Doc Benowitz. We see the world in so many more ways than him. And everyone! You're mine, Harley, because you're the only person who I think, might. Just. Understand!" She hated him using Jamie's pet name for her, it created an intimacy between them that made her shudder. But she couldn't let him know that.

"Understand what?" He tilted his head to the side, his gaze out of focus as if he were staring over her shoulder.

"What REALLY matters doc!" 

"You need me to understand?" She asked numbly. He fixed his eyes firmly on hers again, sliding his hands slowly across the table towards her.

"I do." He said, smiling over at her. For the first time his facial expression looked almost normal, even kind. She was unsure how to react to that. 

"...Why?" Harleen had lost all sense of professionalism now, she was scared and nervous and worst of all, curious. The Joker lifted his hands suddenly, the cuffs once again clanging and startling her, and splayed his fingers. He opened his mouth into a wide grin, the scarred flesh bunching up sickeningly. His eyes were wide.

"Oh we all love a kindred spirit Harley! Even me!" He said, touching his hand to his chest. "Y'see, that's the only hope I have for a little light in this dark hole I live in! The hope that someone out there might be making a difference for Gotham in my name!" He said grandly, the sarcasm evident. Harleen composed herself before answering. 

"You actually think I'm going to continue what you were doing to Gotham?" He lowered his hands to the table slowly, and fixed her with a dark glare, baring his teeth slightly. His answer was not sarcastic.

"I know you will."


	4. Ego

Chapter Four

"You're familiar with psychiatry, aren't you?" The Joker was sitting opposite Harleen gazing at his fingers on the table as they tapped tunelessly, his hand fixed in place by the loop for his cuffs. His tongue was sliding over the twisted contours of the corner of his mouth as she spoke, his eye's not betraying any interest in her words if indeed there was any. It had been two day's since her disastrous first session with him, and during that time she had managed to compose herself, examining all of her previous work on him as well as all his old psychiatrist's reports in order to prepare a few poignant questions for the next session. Harleen had no intention of losing control like that again. She would remain professional and get to the heart of this man.

"Who me?" Said the Joker, feigning confusion, his eyes widening and his mouth slightly open. "Is that what this is? Ooops..." He bared his teeth in an awkward smile, scrunching his eye's up into tiny points. But Harleen wasn't going to let him get to her. 

"In fact you're more than familiar with it, you have an acute understanding of its inner procedures; how we obtain a diagnosis, how we interpret different information, all of it." His eyes blinked up to hers and his upper lip curled into a snarl. When he spoke his voice dripped with condescension.

"How'd you figure out that one Harley?" She gingerly pushed the previous doctor's files across the table to him, not wanting to get within his reach. 

"Each time you'd get a new doctor you would tell them different stories about your childhood. Each time the doctor would come to a different diagnosis. I've read the stories you told. They all lent themselves perfectly towards different diagnoses. All this time you've been messing with every doctor you've had. Not that I feel any sympathy for them, if they'd taken the time to read each other's work this wouldn't have fooled them." The Joker seemed to like this, jumping up out of his seat and laughing loudly, his hands pulling on the chains around his wrists.

"He he HEE! Oh you're a keeper!" He said, pointing at her and grinning. Harleen had noticed that when he was excited that he shook his head back and forth slightly as he spoke. He settled back into his seat before speaking again. "So, d'you think I'm gonna to tell you the truth? That I'm going to reveal the dark enigma that I am?" His every word was mocking and harsh, but she managed to keep calm throughout his onslaught of unpredictable mood changes and actions.

"I don't care about where you came from Joker; I don't expect that you'll ever tell me the truth about that. What I want to talk about is why you do what you do. Your 'games' with the people of this city." 

"Let's talk about you instead," he said, pointing at her, his expression suddenly intense, "and your 'games' with Doctor Benowitz. Why d'you think you invent people to be all the time, Harley?" He caught her off guard with this question, and with his startling insight into her mind.

"We haven't discussed...what makes you think I do that all of the time?" He blinked irritably at this.

"Oh come on doc, we both know that kind of crutch ain't something you can keep to the high holidays." She was losing control of the situation and her nerves again. She couldn't let him control her.

"Stop trying to distract me and answer my questio-" 

"I am now shut up and answer mine! You'll see..." He said slyly, his demented grin betraying nothing of his plan. His hands were flat on the table and he seemed terribly still. Harleen decided to play along, unable to argue with him any longer and curious as to what his point would be. 

"Ok. ...I create personalities to give me a leg up in social situations that I would be inadequate at dealing with myself."

"DON'T LIE TO ME!!" The Joker roared suddenly, raising his hands and slamming them down on the table. His yellow teeth were bared in a vicious snarl and for a moment she imagined him ripping his chains off and tearing her apart like a wild animal. Then, suddenly he was calm again, his voice becoming sweet and informative. "Harley, we both know you do it because you love the power it gives you over people. By changing who you are when you meet people, you're free to manipulate them as you see fit." He edged his face closer to hers. "And don't you just love satisfying that impulse."

"What impulse?" Harleen whispered, unable to take her eyes off his.

"To control." He said darkly, his eyes boring into her head, his mouth fixed in a sadistic grin. "It isn't hard. Y'know, there are so many ways to control someone. There's your way, there's-" A high pitched beeping sound cut him off; Harleen's watch. Their session was over. Unable to even attempt to hide her relief, she picked up her forms and rushed to the door. 

"Hey Harley, don't you wanna know the best way?" Said the Joker from behind her. He was smiling politely now, no menace present. He didn't need to scare her, he had already won. Humor him and then get out, she thought to herself.

"Ok, what?" Strangely, he pointed at her when he spoke. 

"D'you remember when I talked about how people cling to order to make them feel safe?"

"Mmm?"

"Tear down their lives, and you become the only order left."

 

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"Sounds like you've met the first man who knows how to push your buttons." Said Jamie in wonder. It was the day before her next appointment with the Joker and Harleen was at Jamie's apartment eating pasta with him. She was splayed across his couch, her shoes kicked out onto the floor. It had been a long time since she had visited him here, and little had changed. It was still far cleaner that her apartment. 

"Has Kaylee moved in?" She asked, noting the short blue strapless dress hanging from the hook on his bedroom door.

"Not just yet, Harley." He said smiling.

"Oh so that's yours? ...Nice taste!" He laughed at this, moving to sit on the arm of the couch. 

"Kaylee left it here the other night."

"Really?" Asked Harleen, confused. "What did she go home in?" He slapped her feet playfully and laughed again.

"She wasn't wearing it! It's for tonight, she didn't want to forget it." He said, referring to the club he and Kaylee had planned on visiting this evening. 

"She's trying to control you." Harleen muttered while fiddling with her nails.

"What?"

"It's her way of making sure you don't forget her or cancel. While you're thinking about someone they have control over you." Jamie frowned at this.

"Kaylee isn't that type of person." 

"Of course she is. Meek little thing like her has no other way of getting what she wants. It's very passive aggressive." She muttered, still picking at her nails causally. 

"Harleen, stop psychoanalysing my girlfriend, you're going to ruin her for me!"

"Oh, am I?" She said grinning cheekily up at him. He didn't look happy. "Alright, alright! Sheesh...so anyway, tell me about this club you're going to?" 

"What, The Blue Night? You've been there before Harley, not a lot has changed.” He said still a little shaken by her analysis of Kaylee.

"It's been so long since I've been there..." She said thoughtfully, "or anywhere for that matter...apart for Arkham. The Joker's become all that I can think about. Maybe I'll join you tonight." Harleen liked the idea of spending an evening out, away from the stresses of her work at Arkham and far, far away from the Joker. Jamie however, didn't seem as keen on the idea.

"Oh no please don't Harley, this is my night with Kaylee to make up for cutting our last night short. It has to be right..." He seemed quite anxious to make Kaylee happy this time, and it irritated her. It had been so long since she had felt like going out and here he was denying it to her. Not now, or ever would she let him or anyone deny her what she wanted. But for now she'd play along.

"Fine...Anyway Kaylee'll be getting here soon so I'll give you some time to get ready." She said, mentally preparing herself to lift her feet from the couch. 

"You can wait until she gets here to go if you like, I know you needed some time with real people after the Joker." He said, heading into his bedroom to get changed. These words tickled Harleen's anger slightly; she had developed a grudging respect for the Joker in her time with him and it upset her to hear him mocked by someone as unqualified as Jamie.  
"He's more real than anyone I've ever met." She muttered coldly as she finally summoned the will to lift herself from the couch and put her shoes on. 

"What was that Harley?" Asked Jamie, opening his door to hear her more clearly, only to discover that his apartment was empty. "Harley?" 

 

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Harleen was out of the apartment as quickly and silently as she could move, not wanting to waste time on goodbyes. She didn't have time to waste; she had to rush home to her apartment and decide on an outfit that she would not be recognized in, and then she had to get to The Blue Night. She could have gone to any of the nightclubs in Gotham, but The Blue Night was the only one that mattered to her right now for the sole reason that Jamie had tried to stop her from going. She had been left feeling uncertain and weak by the Joker twice in three days, there was not chance in hell that she was going to let Jamie or Kaylee have any control over what she chose to do. 

"Oh Harleen, hey!" Harleen froze just inside the front door of the apartment, recognizing the insecure and over-nurtured squeak of Kaylee's voice behind her. At least that's how she sounded to her. 

"Kaylee!" She cheered falsely, turning around and seeing Kaylee waiting by the door to the elevator. 

"Yep, it's me. So, you're a stair person huh? I never take the stairs. I should, it would help me lose weight. Then maybe I could look more like you." She said, smiling across the room while attempting to make small talk. Obsessed with making people happy maybe, Harleen thought to herself, product of deep seated insecurity. She stopped herself before going any further, she didn't have time to develop a full psychoanalysis now. She didn't have time to chat either, and so she simply smiled in agreement at Kaylee's last statement, happy to re-enforce her insecurities before rushing outside. 

"Oh and Kaylee," she started, stopping halfway through the door, an idea occurring to her "I like your dress, the one you had hanging in Jamie's bedroom. Have you been to the club before?" Kaylee looked uncomfortable with the idea of Harleen being in Jamie's bedroom, but being an insecure woman she didn't say anything about it.

"No...to be honest I don't really like to go to these sorts of places." Too social for you, thought Harleen. She stepped towards Kaylee as she responded.

"Oh I love them! I'd join you two if I could. Nothing better to help me get through all this stress the Joker's been giving me" She said slyly. 

"Really...why aren't you coming with us then?" 

"Oh Jamie wanted to make this your night. It's really fine, distracting myself shouldn't be that hard with my imagination." Harleen tapped her temples absently with her index finger as she spoke.

"Oh no, you have to come! I'm not going to be the reason for your continued stress." Said Kaylee, so eager that she seemed to be tilting forwards on her feet.

"No no it's fine, you enjoy your night! Besides, Jamie didn't want me there." 

"Don't be silly you're his best friend, he should be doing what's best for you as well as me! Come up with me and I'll have a word with him ok?" Checkmate, thought Harleen with glee. 

 

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Trees zipped by the window of Jamie's car as he, Kaylee and Harleen all headed to the club. He had wanted this night to make up for his disappointing date the previous week but Harleen had once again intervened, somehow convincing Kaylee to invite her to come along. Harley always gets what she wants, he thought to himself. He even had to drive her to her apartment and wait while she went upstairs to change into what she was wearing now; a dress that looked like a short red skirt just long enough to cover her upper thighs with a piece of fabric that covered one side of her chest, looped around her neck and covered the other half; ridiculously high, in Jamie's mind, red high heels, shiny black  
stockings and a large red bracelet. It easily upstaged Kaylee's outfit, who he could tell wasn't feeling too good about herself. Harleen seemed to enjoy that. It was times like these that he couldn't stand Harleen. She wasn't a bad person at heart, but there were times when her selfishness became too much to handle. He felt a little bad though, he could tell just how much the Joker had rattled her; she was never this selfish and oppositional usually, as if she were trying to compensate for the weakness she felt during her time with the Joker.

The club was fairly packed when they finally arrived, with people milling wildly around the bar and dance floor; an almost deafeningly high pitched dance beat failing to drown out the sound of so many people. 

"I'll take care of myself from here on out, let you two enjoy your evening." Said Harleen, flashing a brilliant smile. They had only just entered and she was already turning heads, male and female. "If you need me Jamie, I'll be around." With that she blended into the crowd of people on the dance floor and vanished from sight.

"Will she be alright?" Asked Kaylee, who was hanging onto Jamie's arm for dear life as the crowd moved around them, looking very out of place.

"Yeah she should be, I'll check on her later just to make sure she's hasn't picked a fight with anyone."

"What?" Kaylee sounded alarmed at this thought, obviously having been thinking of Harleen as a sweet person until this point.

"It's happens. She knows a fair bit of self-defence stuff and she's got street smarts, so she can take care of herself. Still...she can be impulsive and a little self-destructive when she's in a bad mood, so I'll keep an eye on her tonight." Kaylee looked awestruck, although Jamie couldn't quite be sure why. Putting has arm around her waist he led her through the crowd and towards the bar for a drink. The crowd was rowdy and loud, the sounds of enjoyment blaring at them as they passed. Kaylee and he sat at the bar and drank for a while, enjoying each other’s company. 

The first event in the evening occurred not long after they had arrived. Jamie and Kaylee were still sitting at the bar sharing stories. Harleen had long since slipped Jamie's mind as he listened to Kaylee's stories about her family. He was happy listening, he had the impression that Kaylee wasn't used to people listening to what she had to say. It made him smile seeing just how much she enjoyed his attention. Then, as he reached across the bar to grasp his drink, he noticed Harleen sitting four stools down and all his focus on Kaylee was dropped. She was sipping a cocktail while talking to the biggest, meanest looking man Jamie had ever seen; he had three eyebrow piercings and a nose ring which made him look even more like a bull, a short Mohawk, and tattoos covering his arms. She was giggling at almost everything he said, running her fingers through her hair and tapping her fingers on the bar has he spoke.

"Oh no you don't..." Said Jamie under his breath, cutting off Kaylee mid-speech.

"What is it?" She said, looking her shoulder to see what he was looking at. "Jesus, who's that with Harleen..?"

"Trouble. I'll be right back. I'm sorry about this." Jamie stood up and pushed his way down to Harleen and the bull man. He didn't like leaving Kaylee alone in this place, he knew she wasn't comfortable, but he couldn't let Harleen play this game. 

"Oh no sweetie I can't say I've ever been! You better show me some time though..." Jamie heard her say as he approached her. She was speaking in a strong southern accent for some reason. Part of ‘the game’ he supposed. He reached out and touched her on the shoulder from behind, causing her to jump and spin on her seat to face him.

"Harley, come spend some time with me and Kaylee." Harleen grinned and winked before responding, her back still to the man she was speaking with.

"Beggin' your pardon? I don't think I know you sweetie..." 

"Yes you do, maybe you should stop playing this game now and come with me? Please, don't be difficult." Said Jamie as he gave her arm a light tug, trying to get her out of her seat and away from this scary man. She didn't seem ready to stop playing her game just yet.

"Hey hands off! Now I don't know who you and your friend are but I'm talkin' with Todd here right now!" The hulking man, now known as Todd, stood up at this point and took a step towards Jamie. He was almost a full head taller that Jamie and twice as wide.

"Yeah, she's talking with me." He said in a gravelly voice, putting one huge hand on Jamie's chest and pushing him backwards. "You're gonna leave her alone now!" 

"Harley I-" began Jamie, before he was quickly interrupted by Todd who shoved him hard into a pair of young men who had stopped to watch what they hoped was an impending fight. "Ok, fine suit yourself!" Said Jamie, however he stopped short when he realized Harleen had vanished from behind Todd. Seems like she'd had her fun. He quickly picked himself up and disappeared into the crowd before Todd had time to realize Harleen had disappeared. 

The second event occurred an hour later into the evening. They were returning to the bar after Jamie had managed to convince Kaylee to join him on the dance floor for a short while. She had been a little awkward at first but she soon forgot that and ended up enjoying herself, which made Jamie feel far better about the evening so far. He hadn't seen Harleen since the Todd incident, and thankfully Todd hadn't seen him. He and Kaylee were laughing about the number of times she had managed to fall over while they danced as he bought her another drink.

"Oh quiet you, you were great out there!" Said Jamie grinning across at her. She was sipping her drink and gigging at him as he spoke. It was good to see her like this, she always seemed so nervous. "Hey, will you be alright here for a sec? I've got to use the toilet." Kaylee nodded and waved him away while sipping her drink, smiling over at him. She's so beautiful when she's feeling confident, thought Jamie as he smiled back. 

Arriving back a couple of minutes later, he slipped into the seat next to Kaylee again and tapped her shoulder to get her attention.

"Hey!" He called over the noise of the music and crowd, "So, did any men try to pick you up?" 

"In two minutes, nothing!" She said, grinning. "Although I did run into Harleen while you were gone!"

"Harley? Really, what did she do?" He said, pursing his lips and struggling to keep his spirits high. 

"Oh nothing really, she seemed pretty drunk! She just came over and cheered and we drank." She said, motioning to her empty glass. Thank god, thought Jamie, and thank you Harley, for not doing something to ruin this evening. However as the evening progressed Kaylee began to act strangely. 

"Hey Jamie...Jamie? JAMIE??" She yelled at him before bursting out in giggles, something which struck Jamie as strange seeing as he was looking right at her.

"Yes? ...is everything ok?" He asked, smiling curiously, "You haven't had that much to drink, you know. You're probably getting a bit over excited." She wasn't listening though, she had jumped up out of her seat and started dancing at the bar with a level of confidence she had never displayed before. "Kaylee, if you want to dance we can head over to the dance floor ok?" Jamie was starting to get a bit worried; this was a weird reaction to alcohol. 

“Pfft! The dance floor is so FAR FAR…away.” She said, the volume of her voice changing randomly.

“Maybe you should sit down Kaylee, I think you may be a bit too drunk.” 

“I don’t want to sit!!” She yelled excitedly, “I want to…I want to SPIN!” And she began to turn in circles as fast as she could while cheering happily. Jamie caught her arm and stopped her before she started to feel sick, at which point she suddenly became focused on her drink, picking it up and waving it around in front of his face. “Look Jamie! Look…at the colours…it’s so BLUE!!” She said in awe to her clear drink, before promptly dropping her glass onto the floor, where it thankfully didn’t smash, and trying to rush off into the crowd. Jamie caught her by the arm before she got too far however, and he promptly sat her down again. He had realized what was going on here; Harleen had drugged Kaylee. 

“I can’t believe that nasty bitch.” He muttered under his breath as he watched his intoxicated girlfriend staring at her fingers, giggling incessantly. It was almost too much to handle for Jamie to think that his best friend had willingly drugged his girlfriend without the slightest care for the consequences, or for that matter their friendship.  
“Jamie! Jamie their so pretty!” She said as she picked at her nails which were painted blue for the occasion. “Look at them…he he they’re so so good! I’m so happy that they’re there and mine and no one can make me give them away! Jamie they’re the best…Jamie…I don’t feel good about this.” 

“What don’t you feel good about Kaylee? Your nails?” Asked Jamie, exasperated and wondering what to do.

“My nails are pretty…no Jamie I feel! Don’t feel good…I’m hurting it hurts Jamie…I feel sick and hurting!” She was clutching her stomach and groaning in pain as she spoke. Oh no, thought Jamie, she’s having a bad reaction to whatever the hell Harley gave her.

“Ok, you’re coming with me now.” He said, putting her arm over his shoulder and leading her towards the exit. Kaylee had stopped speaking and seemed entirely focused on making dying animal noises as loudly as she could. The moment she was outside Kaylee fell onto all fours and began to throw up while Jamie stroked her back. They were in a grimy alley and it looked like it had been used for this purpose by more than a few other patrons tonight. 

“Oh hey you two! He he I want fresh air!” Said a high pitched Brooklyn accent from behind Jamie. He turned angrily, knowing that voice all too well. Harleen stood, leaning against the wall with a huge grin on her face while she giggled and snorted with laughter. Her hair was a complete mess and she had somehow lost her shoes. “Oh hey is Kaylee ok? So much fun in there! Wow…its dark out here…grim and…melon. Melon!! Ha ha!! …I mean…melancholy. Ha see! I am still a real word person even though I’m completely high!” This was about as much as Jamie could take, Harleen didn’t seem to care in the slightest about what was going on around her and Kaylee was still retching on the ground. 

“What the hell Harley?! I mean really what the hell did you do this for!? I just wanted a nice, fun evening with Kaylee to make up for ditching her last week to come take care of you! What the hell did you give her?!” Harleen giggled and grinned up at him innocently.

“I don’t know…some stupid guy gave them to me and I thought ‘hey, Kaylee is really really uptight and nervous with crowds, I’ll do that gal a favour and get her high on whatever this is!' I don’t know why you’re upset?? I feel SO GOOD!” 

“Does she look like she feels good!?” Yelled Jamie, pointing at Kaylee’s slumped form as he spoke. Harleen looked down at her and giggled.

“She’s just a barrel of fun ain’t she Jamie?” 

“You’re never coming out with us again Harleen, and from now on you are not allowed anywhere near Kaylee!” Yelled Jamie, his temper finally blowing. Harleen stopping giggling suddenly and fixed her eyes on his coldly.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do Jamie. If you try and stop me from doing what I want I’ll hurt her even more!!” Screamed Harleen, her acid voice echoing down the alleyway. Kaylee had stopped vomiting and was curled up against the wall, whimpering like a kicked dog. 

“You’ll do what?? Did you actually just threaten my girlfriend!? Jesus Harley what the hell did the Joker do to you in two freaking sessions to make you this CRAZY!??” Yelled Jamie, his anger boiling over as he screamed vitriol at her. Harleen’s expression grew even more furious at the mention of the Joker, her nostrils flaring and her teeth bared as she swung her arm, slapping Jamie in the face as hard as she could muster in her inebriated state. It was still hard enough to knock him down, falling to the ground next to Kaylee, who didn’t seem aware of what was going on around her. 

“What the hell Harley..?” He muttered as he put his hand to his face. Harleen bent down, almost falling over in the process, and stared into Jamie’s eyes. Her expression had changed in a strange way; her eyelids were half closed and her lips were curled into a hateful snarl. When she spoke it wasn’t in her accent, it was in a cold nasal tone that was surprisingly low for Harleen, who had a naturally high voice.

"Y'wanna know a general rule?" She growled, "People take themselves too seriously.” And with that she turned on her heels and wondered off down the alleyway, leaving Jamie alone next to his whimpering, broken girlfriend.


	5. Chaos Theory

Chapter Five

"Afternoon Terry, you have the codes today or am I visiting the warden?" Asked Harleen, her voice low and sore. She couldn't remember what had happened the night before, she only remembered arriving at the club, dancing, and then waking up in a side alley two blocks from there. That was three hours ago.

"I got'em today." He replied, passing them over. By the look on his face she could tell he had noted her disheveled hair and the dark rings under her eyes. "You had a rough night Harleen?"

"I guess I must have." She said quietly. To her surprise Terry laughed.

"You know," he began, grinning up at her, "I ain't never, in my whole life, known one of you doctors to show up with a hangover. I thought your type spent the evening reading textbooks and sippin' tea!" Harleen raised one eyebrow, too exhausted to smile back.

"I'm a doctor because I'm smart Terry. Conventional, that's something I'm not."

"And that's why you're my favourite Doc. Listen you gonna be ok with the Joker today? Cause I can try and contact the warden, ask if he can reorganise the appointment?" She frowned and shook her head slightly at this.

"What would you tell him, that I spent the previous night drinking and I'm too hungover to come in? Besides I'd rather get it over with, this is an important job to me, I'm not ready to lose it just yet."

"Well if you're sure, but-where are they? Ah, here, take these." He said, handing her some headache pills, which she gratefully accepted. "The guards are ready to bring the Joker out, so just head on down. Take it easy today alright?" Harleen appreciated how much he cared, and she agreed with him; she did need to take it easy. But of course she knew the Joker would have other plans.

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"Looks like you forgot your notepad Harley." Said the Joker the moment the guard had left the room after bolting his handcuffs to the table. He looked bored and tired today, as if he too had been woken for their appointment. His head was tilted up slightly while he stared, causing his eyelids to half-close. Well I'm not too keen on being here right now either sweetheart, thought Harleen spitefully. She was sure this would be her hardest session yet, thanks to her exhaustion coupled with a throbbing headache. Already she was forgetting things.

"So I did, thankyou for noticing. I'll manage without it." She was trying as hard as she could to avoid sounding as bored as he looked. The Joker didn't answer, he just stared uncaringly at her, waiting for her to speak again. "Let's pick up where we left off last time, why you do what you do. You were a-"

"We were talking about you and your little control problem Harley." Said the Joker, cutting her off mid speech, "I've gotta sneaking suspicion you're avoiding the topic." Harleen wasn't in the mood for his games, she was just too tired to care. She stared blankly into his eyes when she answered. He tilted hid head to the side slightly and stared back.

"I'm not playing your games today Joker. Today you're going to shut up and actually answer my questions for a change." The Joker didn't react, his facial expression still and unchanging when he answered.

"Rough night Harley?" His tongue flicked across the corner of his mouth.

"Stop it!" She hissed, losing her already strained temper, "I've had enough of being scared of you, and I'm sick of your games. I'm in charge of these sessions, not you. You only scared me because you made me feel weak before. But that's over, because I've realised that there's nothing threatening about you. I'm the one who walks out of here at the end of these sessions! All you are is a man on a leash. So stop calling me Harley and answer my damn questions!" The Joker dropped his chin to his chest when she finished, his eyes now looking up at hers. He had an excited smile spreading across his face which pushed his scars sickeningly. His fingers started tapping on the table top.

"While I appreciate the sentiment, you'll ah, learn soon enough that there's plenty of reasons to be scared of me...but alrighty, let's start talking! The last quack I was sent decided I was a...what did he call it, Delusional Anarchist!" Harleen noticed that he kept biting his lower lip in-between words. "Now, what d'you think of that huh?" He said as he leaned forward on the table, waiting silently for her answer. Where is he going with this, she wondered.

"I don't know if you're delusional but I would agree that you're an anarchist." The Joker's lips peeled back into a grimace as he leaned back and slapped his palms down on the table.

"No!" He hissed, pressing his finger towards her. "No no no, anarchists are just as bad as those other desperate people! They're as obsessed with disorder as, like, cops are with keeping peace! Y'see, everyone I've ever known has...viewed the world-" he mimed the shape of the globe with his fingers, "as if either order or disorder are important. Like, as if one is a true...fixed thing that is the same for everyone. But, y'see, they're never fixed, because they're the same thing. They're both a different person's view of a whole."

"The same thing? And that is?"

"The only law we can't deny! Pure Chaos." He was using his hands to explain everything he said. Harleen had never known him to be so consistently animated, his enthusiasm causing her to forget her exhaustion. "One man or woman-" He pointed at her, "sees some of the chaos as order and some disorder. Pick a person from the other side of the world an' the same chaos looks different. BUT-" He slammed his palm down on the table and stood, his chains rattling, "they're both Chaos!"

"...so because you're aware of this underlying chaos...you can do as you please?" Asked Harleen, her focus entirely on his words, on his movements, on his every action.

"Doc," he began, laughing at her question, "you're still trying to find a reason for what I do? Listen closely," he lent down close to her, lowering his voice confidentially, "everyone is programmed from the moment they come screaming into the world to view the pure chaos as their groups idea of order. Laws, morality, safety; none of it matters! Y'know, it's all just part of society's delusion to help them sleep at night. Me, I don't have that. I act without this...percieved order." Suddenly his hands shot across the table and caught hers, which she had accidentally left within his reach while he talked, his chains pulling tight. Harleen froze with fear, unable to pull away or call out as his cold fingers fixed on hers for the first time. But instead of breaking her fingers or pulling her towards him he simply held her, his scars closer to her than ever before, his eyes staring into hers as he began to whisper. "When you understand the truth about chaos, you understand that there's no need for rules anywhere and the only sensible way to live is without them. And without all those rules, there's no reason. Nothing needs to be justified or explained, it just is! So, Harley, getting back to your question," he continued, pulling himself across the table and closer to her face until they were only an inch apart, "I can do as I please, because I can do as I please."

"Wh...what are you doing?" She whispered, still unable to will herself to pull away or call the guard. The Joker's eyes were an inch from hers; his smile and inch from her cringing face. She could feel his breath on her lips. His scars had never been so close to her; two uneven twisted lines forming a broken smile and one smaller scar curving down over his lower lip. However these had been cut into his flesh, that extra scar made Harleen think that he must have struggled when it had happened. In those few seconds that they were close, she wondered who the man before the scars had been. Feeling a tickling sensation on her hand she flicked her eyes down and saw that the Joker was running his fingers over her hand gently. Slowly he released his iron grip on her and slipped back into his seat with a satisfied smile on his face.

"You'll see, one'a these days I'll open your eyes to pure chaos."

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The Joker's words echoed around Harleen's head as she entered her apartment, tossing her keys onto the couch as she passed. What he had said about chaos made sense to her logically, though she was sure that it took more than a suitable philosophy to transform a man into The Joker. She still didn't know the story of his scars. Her head was throbbing, but her exhaustion thankfully hadn't returned yet; she was still too stimulated from her talk with the Joker. As she settled into her apartment her thoughts turned to the previous night however. Harleen still had no idea what had happened with Jamie and Kaylee; neither had tried to call her so she guessed that they weren't worried.

"You were spending most of your time by yourself..." She muttered quietly while she stared blankly into a mirror, trying and failing to recall the previous night. Whatever it had been, it had ended with her waking up alone in an alley with no shoes. It sickened her slightly not knowing what might have happened to her, or what she might have done. She had been so rushed after waking up that there had been no time to think about it, but now she had time to try and find out. Also she needed to stop thinking about the Joker. Picking up the phone, Harleen dialed.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end of the line sounded exhausted, his voice husky and dry.

"Jamie? Can you really be sounding worse than me? I'm surprised, there I was thinking Kaylee was perpetually incapable of being fun!"

"...Harleen. What do you want?" His tone was cold and unfriendly, and it worried Harleen. It took a lot to push Jamie to anger.

"...I'm going to venture a guess and say I did something out of line last night. In my defense I don't recall anything. I woke up in an alleyway about four hours ago. You wouldn't happen to know where my shoes went would you? They were fairly expensive." She was trying to keep things as light as possible, in the hopes that humor might lift his mood and make him forgive whatever she'd done.

"I don't think I feel like talking to you right now. I don't care if you can't remember what you did, I'm not ready to hear your voice again." He spoke with a combination of exhaustion and what sounded worryingly like hate. It shocked her to hear it, leaving her unsure how to react.

"Ok, I can hear that you're angry, but please don't hang up yet. Will you tell me what I did? I can't remember anything after my first couple of drinks; I think I must have taken something." She said slowly, trying to sound reasonable. There was a pause on the line before Jamie's icy response.

"You almost got me attacked by a huge thug you were chatting up, you spiked Kaylee's drink, and then you threatened to hurt her if I ever try to tell you what to do again." Harleen's heart quickened.

"I...wow, ok I'm so sorry Jamie. I don't remember any of this. You know I'd never do anything like that if I weren't...out of it like I was, right?" No response. "Is Kaylee ok?"

"She's in hospital."

"Jesus what did I spike her drink with, cyanide?" Smooth, she thought to herself irritably. The shock had made her speak without thinking, and now she was left to curse her rash words.

"Actually Harleen," He began, as his voice started to rise in volume, "she fell and gave herself concussion because she was so high on whatever the hell you spiked her with! And you're making jokes about it! You really don't care about anyone do you? No matter how good you are at pretending, you are the only person who you care about!" He was yelling into the phone, and she was unsure how to react.

"Jamie that's not-"

"You know what's ironic Harleen?" He hissed, cutting her off. "The only person you take seriously is the Joker. You two deserve each other." The line went dead, leaving Harleen standing stunned and alone in her messy apartment. She felt sick, as if some dark secret was crawling inside her. Harleen had always been a fairly selfish person, it came with growing up alone and being smarter than her parents. She had always been the centre of the universe to the people around her. But she had never done anything like this before.

"Idiot...idiot, idiot girl!" She cursed quietly to herself. "You had to let him get to you. So what if he...seems smarter than you are." Even saying it out loud, acknowledging it, made her shiver with frustration and anger that she could barely contain. It was irrational, but she couldn't stop herself from feeling it; in all her life the Joker was the only man, the only person, who had been able to intimidate her. Harleen wanted to do something, to somehow make this right in one go. One grand gesture to make all that was wrong with Jamie and Kaylee right, but nothing was coming to mind. She thought about visiting Kaylee in the hospital, but she didn't know which one it was, and Jamie certainly didn't want to tell her. Besides, if all it was was concussion then she'd be out by the end of the evening anyway.

"He'll come around..." Wishful thinking, whispered the irritating voice of reason in her head. Jamie had put up with her behaviour for a very long time, but what he described was worse than anything before. It was stupid of her to accept the drugs at the club; she was a psychiatrist, she knew that it would be unwise to remove her inhibitions when she was feeling so insecure and combatetive. But she had been too selfish to care, and now Kaylee was paying the price. There was nothing she could do for now, accept give Jamie some space. She would call him in a week or two. For now she would focus on her work with Joker. It was the only thing to do.

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Arkahm Asylum, along with the rest of Gotham, was being drowned in a ocean of sleet and rain as Harleen quickly rushed through the front doors and into it's now familiar reception area. Her shoulder length hair was drenched and dripping from the brief walk from the car to the building, and her teeth chattered. Two weeks had passed since the event at the night club and still Jamie wasn't speaking to her. She had tried calling him after a week, and again after the second week, but both times he hadn't answered.

A different orderly was in the office today, a bored looking women who had not aged well; her skin was discoloured and splotchy with a myriad of wrinkles beginning to overwhelm her face, her cheeks were hollow, as gaunt as the rest of her, which made her look as if all the joy in life had been drained from her, leaving only this shell. Harleen disliked her immediately.

"Is there something I can do for you?" Said the old women from across the room. Her voice sounded like someone was clawing at her throat while she spoke, a rattling hiss forming the bulk of her words. Tobacco had stained her teeth yellow and black.

"Yes, I'm Doctor Harleen Quinzel, I have an appointment with the Joker. I'm his psychiatrist." Harleen smiled, trying to remain polite despite her inherent dislike for the woman in front of her.

"Since when?" She accused, her eyes squinting suspiciously over the counter at Harleen.

"I've been working here for about three weeks now. This is my ninth session with him."

"How come I ain't seen you before?" The woman scrunched her nose up irritably.

"I'm not sure, Terry's always been here when I came through in the past."

"Oh yeah? I only work part time." She coughed loudly, clearing her throat with a horrid grating noise. "Head up to the warden then."

"You don't have the codes today?" The old women blinked, confused.

"Why would I have the codes?"

"Sometimes..." Began Harleen, stopping herself before she could go on. She wanted this conversation over so she could get away. "Never mind, I'll head up to the warden." Leaving before the crone could respond, Harleen headed out of reception, into the hallway, and straight into the elevator. The warden's office was just a quick ride to the third floor, but Harleen savoured the solitude, however brief it was. She had spent the last two weeks almost totally alone, her only prolonged social interaction being her hour with the Joker three times a week, but nevertheless there was something comforting about the empty space inside the drab old elevator. Harleen had felt quiet over the last two weeks; she had stopped talking to herself as much and felt as if she had calmed down at home. Her sessions with the Joker had become the only times she had felt her old hyperactive animated self. Harleen theorised that the loss of Jamie in her life as her only confidant and close friend had caused her to put her feelings, abundant though they were, on hold until he would agree to speak with her.

"Or I've reached an all new level of emotional instability." She muttered to herself as the elevator doors slid open. The warden's office was just down the hall, a sparsely decorated musty room with a disturbingly thick layer of dust on the desk in the top left corner. Currently, the room lacked his presence, so Harleen decided to wait, settling down onto his old couch. Warden Peter Sullivan was known for spending most of his time away from Arkahm. The mystery of his wearabouts so far had remained unsolved; Harleen had only had to get the codes from him three times during her time as the Joker's psychiatrist.

"Doctor Quinzel! Well if this isn't a pleasant surprise I don't know what is! Funny, I was just looking to speak to you." Came the warden's sickly prattling voice from the doorway. For most of her life Harleen had secretly lived by the assumption that you could tell everything you needed to know about a person from the way they look, hideously scarred criminal geniuses now withstanding, and from the moment she had set her eyes on Peter Sullivan she had known that he was a self-praising incompetent fool with little interest in anything other than his own image. He believed that everyone around him saw him as a kind of wise mentor, when in actual fact everyone was repulsed by him. He had a small, fat head with tiny ears and miniscule eyes which would seem to search hungrily around any given space. His soot grey hair was cropped short and his eyebrows were so sparse that they almost appeared non-existant. Harleen wouldn't have called him short, but his bloated hanging belly worked wonders to draw attention away from his height.

"Were you now, very well. What did you need me for Doctor?" She asked politely, maintaining formality in an attempt to distance herself from him. He walked briskly into the room, picked up a file that was lying on his desk, and began to flick through the pages inside.

"Well Doctor Quinzel, it just so happens I've been reading your reports on the Joker recently."

"Of course, you wouldn't be so effective at your work if you didn't read the reports." She said, smiling and attempting to keep her contempt at bay.

"And that would be a terrible crime!" He grinned, misreading her sarcasm. "There are just a couple of things here that I want to ask you about, just to bring everything into a clear light for us all. In your last report you said, and I'm gonna quote you here, The patient's highly advanced philosophical beliefs regarding chaos, coupled with his extremely high I.Q. are leading me to question whether or not his sanity should actually be in question. Now here's the bit that really caught my attention, Though the patient clearly lacks any noticable concern for the loss of life, as his crimes have illustrated, my studies suggest that he is not a psychopath, for the emotional understanding that he exhibits is far too advanced for someone void of them, and finally, I have come to the conclusion that the patient is not unstable and volatile because of emotional or mental damage, but through personal choice. The patient's emotional health appears to be in an excellent state; he is never unhappy or depressed and always has a highly advanced understanding of the emotional states of those around him." Finished, the warden dropped the reports back onto his desk and looked over at her, raising his eyebrows as if expecting an explanation. Unimpressed, Harleen stared back and waited for him to continue. Finally he gave in and spoke first. "You have realised, haven't you doctor, that you are absurdly close to declaring the Joker, the worlds most dangerous terrorist and serial killer, totally sane?"

"I have realised." Said Harleen calmly.

"Harleen," he began, not bothering to ask permission to use her first name, "if you declare the Joker sane, by law he can't stay here at Arkham Asylum. Now I think that you'd agree that the safest place to keep the Joker is here, down in Joker Wing. I think...that you'd be putting everyone at risk by forcing the law to move him to a...less secure location. Now don't you think that too?" He pleaded, leaving Harleen with no doubts about his true motives.

"Peter, if I declare the Joker sane, you'll lose your main source of income. That's it. Blackgate and those like it are more than equipped to keep the Joker in line."

"But really doctor, how can that maniac be sane?" He said in frustration, putting his hands on onto his desk and bowing his head. Harleen's eyes narrowed.

"It sickens me to hear the warden of a psychiatric facility writing a patient off as insane and suggesting we leave it at that. Are we not expected to treat him? Is that not my job?"

"Harleen..." he began irritably, "your job is a joke. I'm required by law to have someone treating the Joker, but that doesn't mean anyone here actually believes that he can be helped! You're the only person left who actually thinks that lunatic is treatable!" To his surprise, Harleen smiled at this.

"Actually Doctor Sullivan, my suggestion that he might be sane implies that I do not in fact believe that he is treatable." Sullivan stopped his pacing and slowly lowered himself to the couch, his desperation evident.

"Doctor Quinzel, you are...a very smart woman. You know what that man means to us here at Arkham; he's our main source of funding. Hell without him we'd probably be shut down! Now I understand that the law says that if someone's sane we move him out of here. But look at what he's done doctor!" He pleaded, putting one hand on her shoulder. Harleen wanted to punch this idiot man. "With someone as bad as him, do you really need to make the ethical decision? I mean look at him, he's happy for christ's sake! So why would you want to ruin us here for that evil man?" Harleen shrugged his hand off her shoulder angrily and stood up, fixing him with contemptuous stare. He suddenly looked very small on his couch.

"You might have given up all of your self respect, Warden Sullivan, but guess what? I haven't. Now I'm not certain that my theory is correct, and I'm late for my appointment with him because of you. So if you'd like to find out what I decide, I suggest you give me the codes right now and stop wasting my time."

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"I've got an interesting topic for you today Joker." Said Harleen, her voice friendly instead of weary for a change. Ever since the Joker had grabbed her five sessions ago she had been extremely cautious, though she had a sneaking suspicion that he would not hurt her if he caught her again. A suspicion she was determined not to test however. The Joker was staring gleefully back at her today; she had noticed that his mood often matched her own, a behaviour she had yet to explain. "One that I think you'll enjoy. The Batman."

"OH? Is he coming here?" Said the Joker, chuckling as he tapped his fingers on the table, his overgrown nails clicking loudly.

"Unfortunately no, but I think it's about time we discuss him." The Joker raised his eyebrows and waved his hands, gesturing for her to begin. Harleen opened the file in front of her. "No one had heard of you before the Batman appeared, isn't that right?"

"Yeah." He stared blankly in her direction, not offering a further explanation. She decided to press for one, though she didn't expect much.

"That struck me as a bit odd, in all of the crimes you're known for you always showed your face, let everyone know it was you. But before Batman, nothing. I'd like it if you'd tell me what he changed." The Joker smiled slightly, his head tilting to the side before he answered.

"That's not hard to figure out yourself Harley!" He looked away, seemingly distracted.

"...Joker?" She asked cautiously. He looked back, a manic smile spreading across his face.

"First name basis now? I'm flattered! Alright, let me tell you something," he said quickly, "there's a thing about chaos. It's a...a way things always go. The more order there is, the harder chaos pushes back, 'cause y'know, it's the inherent reality about people. Everyone thinks they want order but they're all drawn to chaos. Now, before Batman started swooping around and roughing up the bad guys," he mimed scruffing someone by the neck, "Gotham was a mess. So obviously I got along just fine, y'know. I robbed mob dealers, took their pennies, their friends lives, their dignity. So much fun really! But, when the Batman showed up it got hard to make an honest living as a killer and a thief!" He smile became a grin. "Little crimes like that weren't as easy to get away from, an' it was like he was challenging me personally, by like trying to repair a city that was already in pieces. So, I pushed back." Leaning forward on the table, the Joker began to whisper. "You wanna know a secret? 'Till bat started flying around, I didn't paint my face. I didn't wear the suit either! So y'see, without Batman...the Joker wouldn't exist." He settled back into his seat, his expression blank again. Harleen took a moment to compose herself before responding.

"So the nature of your crimes changed then? You went from petty crimes to trying to drive an entire city into anarchy."

"You still don't understand it?" Asked the Joker, faking concern.

"No...actually I think I do understand it. The Batman was a powerful force of order and he needed an equally powerful opposing force, so you stepped into the role. Is that how you see things Joker?" He raised one eyebrow and smiled.

"You tell me doc."

"I think there's a lot more logic behind what you do than you let on." The Joker's smile widened and he stopped fidgeting, his body becoming still. Slowly he slid his right hand across the cold metal table towards her, stopping about halfway when his chains pull tight. His eyes stared into hers, unblinking.

"Take my hand Harley." Harleen had no idea how to react. She knew she couldn't trust him, and she didn't understand why he'd want her hand if not to hurt her somehow. Her eyes scanned his expression tentatively.

"Why?"

"Because...this is an important moment. I'd like to share it with you."

"How am I supposed to know you wont hurt me?"

"Where's the good in that?" She still didn't move. He raised his eyebrows slightly. "Y'know I'm not a man to mince words...so, when I say this, I want you to know I'm tellin' the truth. Your hand couldn't be safer than when it's in mine. I'm a man of my word Harley." At last she gave in to curiosity; the guard was just outside the door after all. Cautiously, she slowly slid her hand across the table and placed it in his. His hand was cold and surprisingly soft on hers. Gently, his fingers wrapped around hers. His tongue darted across the corner of his mouth before he spoke. "Tell me the truth."

"About what..?" She whispered, feeling an uncomfortable intimacy forming with the killer in front of her.

"About me of course," he said calmly, "and about you. Y'see, you've known the truth about me for a long time, haven't you Harley? You didn't want to say it, you had to be sure you were right. So many things in the world would go so much quicker if people trusted their instincts a little more. I know you know it, you know you know it. It's time to stop dodging to the truth, beautiful." That last word caught her off guard. It didn't sound mocking or harsh, it sounded almost as if he meant it.

"What truth?" She asked quietly.

"Stop it Harley!" He said, his fingers tightening around hers. "Tell me the truth about me. Say it."

"I don't-" She muttered. The Joker cut her off.

"Say it!" His hands tightened again.

"You're hurting m-"

"SAY IT!"

"...your sane." There they were, the words he wanted to hear, out in the open. His hand relaxed and he grinned, yellow teeth bared. Harleen let out a sigh of relief as his hand unclenched. For some reason however, she didn't pull away. Despite him hurting her, she felt that he hadn't lied to her before; her hand felt safe in his somehow. Tentatively she looked up at him, unsure about what would happen next.

"An' what does it mean if I'm sane?" She knew the answer to this question, but she feared that if she said it the Joker would return to his usual, hositle self. Harleen couldn't think straight; somehow, she didn't want this to end.

"It means..."

"...yeah?"

"It means that you need to be moved to a prison." The Joker raised his left hand, his smile widening as he pointed at Harleen.

"That's what I wanted to hear."


	6. An Unfathomable Request

Chapter Six

"Your employment here is over!" Howled Warden Sullivan, slapping his fat fist down onto his desk. "You're not going to ruin me, ruin everyone here, because of your crackpot theories about the Joker! I don't care what you say Doctor, that man is a maniac who belongs in our care!" Harleen stared coldly back it him, barely hearing what he was rambling about. Two day's had passed since she had decided to go ahead with the diagnosis, something Sullivan desperately wanted to stop. Already he was attempting to devalue her opinion; thankfully this was something she had anticipated.

"Unfortunately Peter," she said gently, leaning forward on his desk, enjoying her victory, "trying to fire me won't do you any good now, I've already sent copies of my report and diagnosis of the Joker to the court, the police commissioner, and the mayor. After all it's important that they have an adequate amount of time to prepare, don't you think?" The warden looked as if he were about to boil over with horror and frustration.

"...You are NOT supposed to do that without consulting me first." He muttered, staring blankly at his desk, his head in his hands.

"I am aware warden, but as you tried to fire me the moment I informed you of my diagnosis, it seems my choice of action was in-fact a wise one." Harleen enjoyed the cold formality she was forcing down his throat; she could see how stupid and inadequate it was making him feel. He just stared at the wood of his desk, tracing his nail distractedly down the grain, his brow furrowed as he desperately tried to think himself out of the situation Harleen had forced on him.

"So...how long do I have before he's moved?"

"I'm not sure yet, I expect I'll be getting a call from the courts soon. No doubt they'll want to confirm my own sanity, this is a bold diagnosis after all." Said Harleen, smiling to herself as she spoke. She had only been half joking; declaring the Joker sane would flare up a lot of old anger from the masses of people whose lives he had scarred. She suspected that the mayor had wanted him forgotten as soon as possible.

"Don't be so cocky Doctor, you haven't ruined me yet." Said Sullivan desperately. "The Mayor, commissioner Gordon, no way they'll just agree to this! Hell I wouldn't be surprised if Batman came out of hiding to knock some sense into you! You can bet they'll contest everything you say about that psycho, and I'll be sure to let them know you're doing this just to spite me." Harleen snorted with derisive laughter, unable to contain herself any longer.

"Just to spite you? Don't be so self-centred Warden! My report, which you have read, is a clear and concise description of my weeks of frequent sessions with him which lead clearly to the one diagnosis. The fact that it will ruin you is just a big fat plus." With a wink, she turned and started to head out of his office, having seen more than enough of his discomfort to satisfy her. As she was about to pass through the door he called out.

"It doesn't matter how convincing your diagnosis is, the Mayor want's the Joker forgotten!" Harleen turned and smiled pleasantly back, her hands on the door frame.

"Oh Peter, you know as well as anyone no one forgets the Joker."

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Dilapidated grey tower blocks flashed past the window of Harleen's cab as she headed home. She had stored her car in an old storage lot not far from her apartment yesterday, in case for whatever reason, she needed to get out of the city quickly. There would be a lot of anger about her diagnosis, although she suspected that the police would try to keep this as quiet as possible. But, with no way to be certain, she decided to take precautions.

Harleen's fingers tapped aimlessly on the arm rest as the car passed through Gotham. Since making the diagnosis she had found herself unable to stay calm; staying still had proved an impossible task, pacing back and forth all day while she thought of the exact words to use in her report. Even after the report was sent she still had trouble sleeping. No matter how hard she tried to calm her mind, her last two nights still ended up with her getting up and wondering her apartment, her mind ablaze with thoughts about the Joker's talks with her about chaos, the Joker's crimes and their implications in regards to his psyche, the escalation of the Joker's activities after the emergence of the Batman, the way the Joker had held her hand, the way she had felt with her hand in his; safe and unafraid. Harleen had slept two hours in the last two nights.

Jamie still hadn't contacted her, leaving her to worry that after the Joker was moved then she would have no human contact left. She had always been a solitary person, but the thought of having no-one was too much for her to cope with. It worried her to think that the only person she was close to now was a mass murderer.

"One more try..." She muttered to herself under her breath, as she rummaged through her bag for her cell phone. Having found it, her fingers hovered over the screen as she worked up the will to type in the number. After summoning the strength, she pressed the phone hard into her ear, her apprehension acting as an anesthetic. Her teeth absent mindedly clicked together in an empty tune as she waited, hoping irritably for an answer. The phone rang for what seemed like an eternity. Then, at last, someone answered.

"Harleen, if I want to talk to you, I'll call you." Jamie's voice sounded distracted, but not anywhere near as angry as the last time they had spoke, despite his already harsh words. It gave her some hope that some level of amiability might return to their relationship.

"I understand that Jamie, but I have to speak and you're going to listen to what I have to say." Harleen found herself unsure how to proceed; Jamie was a valuable friend, and she would be willing to say anything, true or not, to keep him that way.

"Ok, I understand that you want to try and stay friends," he began, "but I honestly can't think of a way to ever forgive you for what you did Harleen, it's as simple as that."

"Ok just...listen. I'm having trouble...thinking quickly right now, but I just need to talk to you." Nothing was coming out right; her exhaustion was taking it's toll at last. Despite his anger, Jamie's better nature got the better of him.

"...Are you ok? You sound unwell."

"Just...tired. It's been an eclectic few days. What needed to be said was..." she stalled, struggling to find the words she needed, "Jamie you were right. About him. The Joker. He's not good for me. Never has been."

"Glad to hear you say it. You...well I could see what he was doing to you." In the back of the cab, Harleen began to smile ever so slightly.

"Mmm...yes you could. So, I've left and won't be seeing him again."

"...You actually left that job?" Said Jamie with a mix of shock and confusion. "But you've been wanting it for years."

"You're...disappointed?"

"No no that's not what I was saying! I'm just...I never expected you to choose me over the Joker." Harleen's smile disappeared, her brow furrowing with irritation; with those words Jamie had taken her feeling of moral height, and she didn't feel that often.

"Don't be silly." She muttered harshly, "Actually...I've made a final diagnosis. He doesn't need any more help from a psychiatrist."

"...in, what, just over three weeks?" His voice sounded disbelieving.

"To be totally honest I knew it from the moment I spoke to him." Jamie's response was slow, and cautious.

"Wait, I'm a little confused...what was the diagnosis." Harleen held her breath, preparing for the worst.

"Well...as it turns out the Joker is the worst kind of diabolical madman-"

"Harleen what are you-"

"The sane kind."

"...Harley...what?" Her answer came blurting out; she didn't even take a breath. She was determined to justify her decision to him for some reason.

"His lack of emotional reaction regarding his crimes at first suggested psychopathic tendencies but during my time with him I've realised that he has an advanced understanding of emotional reactions and the ability to empathise with others which is something a psychopath is incapable of even comprehending. He adheres to an extremely concise philosophical view regarding chaos which may explain why he has by choice forced himself to become empty of concern for the lives of others and most interestingly for his own life. Nothing matters to him, all he lives for is the fulfillment of his whims, but as this is not due to a psychological imbalance but personal logical choice psychiatry is of no use to him therefore I have requested that he be transferred to Blackgate Prison as Arkham is a place for the insane. Law requires he be moved if the patient is sane, and I-"

"Jesus Harley slow down!" Said Jamie cutting her off. Harleen breathed, grateful that he stopped her. The words had been almost exactly ripped from her report, and she could have gone on for much longer. "So the Joker's sane. You're never going to see him again then?"

"...I will never see him again." For some reason the words left a stale taste in her mouth. For reasons unknown to her, it hurt that her time with him was over.

"So what happens now?"

"Well...the courts should call any day now about the report I've sent. Then...I will see." Before Jamie could respond her phone let off a slight beeping sound. "This might be them calling, will you answer if I called you back?" She asked tentatively, not wanting to lose the dialogue that she had built with Jamie at last.

"Yes, you should answer it. You know, if it's the court. Call me back later ok? We...we'll sort everything between us." Harleen began to grin.

"Thankyou Jamie. I'll call back as soon as I can." She hung up, her elation reaching new heights. Never seeing the Joker again was no longer in the forefront of her mind. Confidant that nothing could ruin her mood, she answered the incoming call.

"Doctor Harleen Quinzel?" The voice on the other line was quiet yet gruff.

"Speaking." There was a slight pause before the voice answered.

"Doctor Quinzel, commissioner Gordon. I've got your report on the Joker in-front of me." She had heard of the commissioner before, the man was a living legend from the time when the Joker and Batman made a war zone of Gotham's streets.

"Comissioner Gordon! Funny, I expected the courts to call."

"The Joker's my responsibility. Was always. And you want to let him loose." Harleen was unsure how to react to this man's straightforward approach, she was used to men who danced around what they were trying to say. It was refreshing.

"Let him loose? Are you sure you've read that correctly? I've declared him sane. If the law says he needs to be moved who am I to interfere?" She said testingly, wondering just how strong this man could be. There was a sigh on the other line.

"You're his doctor. You don't need to do this. What difference would it make? All you're doing is putting everyone in Gotham at risk." His argument was measured and well timed, but Harleen could hear the hint of desperation him was trying to hide. Honest men could never hide their true feelings. She chuckled slightly.

"You're asking me to lie about a patients sanity. As the Chief of Police I'm going to hazard a guess and say you know that's a criminal offence. Going the same way as the Batman commissioner?" There was silence for a few seconds.

"Doctor, you know how dangerous he is. We move him and who knows what he'll do."

"He's got no men and no money! Now I know he's a genius but really, can the police not find a way to move one man with no-one to help him?"

"He's totally unpredictable! He's killed dozens of cops, you expect me to be ok with putting their lives at risk again?" He was starting to sound angry.

"Do you're job commissioner, and they wont be. I will not break the law by lying for you. Move the Joker. He doesn't belong in an asylum." Satisfied that her point had been made, she hung up before he could respond.

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Slamming the phone down in frustration, Police commissioner James Gordon rested his head on the desk, unsure how to proceed. Quinzel was determined not to back down, and the thought of the Joker somehow getting loose sent ripples of irrational panic through his body. He knew the Joker had no resources left, the police tracked down all his men, stashes of money and weapons, and all of his off shore bank accounts that were filled to the brim with stolen money. There was no way he could escape. But something just didn't feel right about this. The thought had crossed his mind that Dr. Quinzel could be working with the Joker. As soon as he received her report Gordon had ordered a full background check on her, but she had come back clean. A few parking tickets, studied and graduated with honors, one of the youngest criminal psychiatrists to have such a high rate of success with patients. She wasn't doing this to get the Joker out in the open, she genuinely believed that he was sane.

"Holloway, get in here for a second!" He called out from his office.

"So, the woman didn't back down? I told you not to ask her James." Muttered Kurt Holloway as he stooped his head to pass through the door into the office. A man of great insight, he was Jim Gordon's lieutenant and his only close friend. He was also extremely tall; his head touched the top of doors as he passed through. Because he was also so skinny he ended up looking like a giant praying mantis, his huge limbs extending uncomfortably as he rested on the side of the door. He had a long pointed nose and high cheekbones, giving him a sense of natural authority, messy short black hair that often looked unwashed, and tobaco stained skin that was pulled tight over his gaunt face.

"What's the Mayor doing right now?" Holloway made a habit of knowing things about important people, a skill that was very useful to Jim. He unfurled his huge arms and stared down at his watch.

"Two twenty-six, he'll be in his office right now if you want me to get him on the line?"

"Yeah." Lowering his eyebrows, Holloway looked sadly at Jim.

"I feel like I should say it, even though you know already. He's not able to stop this from happening."

"He can try." Said Gordon, avoiding Kurt's eyes. The last thing Mayor Garcia would want is the Joker getting loose. Gordon was confidant that he would do anything in his power to keep that psychopath locked up.

"Alright he's on the line!" Holloway called out from the other room a few second later. Hoping for the best, Jim brought the Mayor up on his loudspeaker.

"Please tell me you've found a way to stop this from happening Gordon?" The Mayor sounded exhausted and agitated; after such a long streak with minimal crime the thought of the Joker being moved had stirred up old fears.

"I was hoping you had sir, I've got nothing." A loud sigh came through the line before his answer.

"Damit...the thought of him being out in the open like that scares me to no end. After what he did to Harvey, to the whole damn city...I don't know Gordon." Jim wasn't used to hearing this casual was of speaking from the Mayor, and it worried him.

"There's got to be some solution sir, this doctor is as smug as it gets. She can't be the person to diagnose him, what about asking for a second opinion?"

"Wouldn't be allowed, her diagnosis is sound. We've all read her report, including the Judge, and we all know it's not crazy. I find it very hard to believe that he's sane, but the report is unfallable. What about her?"

"She's clean, just a smug psychologist. Smarter then the rest, but nothing too new. Nothing we can use."

"Then I guess we've got no choice." Jim rested his head on his desk for a moment, dreading the following words. "We have to move him. But I want it done carefully! We think we've got all his people but we don't know for sure, so this has to be kept quiet. No clearing the streets and no-one outside of this office finds out. Get a team to come down in plain clothes and have the van he's in unmarked. No one will ever know he's been moved, are we clear?"

"Yes sir." Said Gordon with a hint of exhaustion.

"Ok...contact me when it's done. Don't screw this up commissioner." The line went dead, leaving Jim to wonder how exactly he was going to do this. Holloway, who had been standing by the door during the whole conversation, answered.

"You can't use swat. Those guys don't know the meaning of discreet. I know a team, group of guys that hire themselves out to agencies, they're the best if you need a quiet job done. Trustworthy, loyal to the police...good enough people for Gotham. You'll also need to strip off a swat van's paint job, still no better for moving prisoners. Make it look like a delivery van, then it could just be dropping drug supplies into Arkham." Jim lifted his head from his desk and looked over, determination starting to outweigh his fear and exhaustion.

"Call them, put them on standby, we don't know how long it will take to set up the Joker's new holding area. I'll organise the van and make sure it's ready for when we need it." With a slow practiced nod, Holloway turned and moved out of the office and shut the door behind him. His own office was halfway down the hall; a small room stacked to the brim with case files and information he had acquired about the powerful of Gotham city. There were no family photos or plants, there simply wasn't enough space. Shutting and locking the door, Kurt closed the blinds to the room and sat down slowly behind his desk, somehow managing to weave his long limbs through the mess of boxes in the room without knocking anything. He took a moment to rest, his hands folded infront of him, his eyes staring straight ahead, his expression empty. Then, with sluggish ease he lowered himself and unlocked his bottom left desk drawer. Inside was his phone directory; a wide black book with a large amount of paper tags sticking out of the top and sides. But instead of reaching for it, he reached deeper, into the darkness in the back, and pulled out a pack of cards in a simple black box. Pulling out the cards and resting them on the desk, he stared at them, as if waiting. Suddenly he flipped them over and pulled out the bottom card, one of the two Jokers. On the top right corner a number was scrawled messily. Picking up the phone, Kurt Holloway dialed. There was a few seconds silence.

"Yes?" Said a nervous voice on the line, quietly.

"We need the team. Discord is on his way." There was a sharp intake of breath from the man on the line, before a hurried answer.

"Ok, I'll clear the funds and then let them know. They'll be in contact soon." The line died, leaving Holloway alone. With practiced ease, he stuffed the card back into the pack and into his desk, locking it away as if it were desperate to escape.


	7. Mightier than the Sword

Chapter 7

The guard in Joker wing had been doubled during the month that had passed since Harleen's report was sent out. Outside his vault like cell door stood two men, still and disciplined, determined to keep order in the dark prison; passwords were changed twice a day, and there were now three checkpoints instead of two. The rest of the building was silent as the grave; the few patients who remained had been moved to other establishments in preparation for the decommissioning of Arkham Asylum. Even the Joker was silent and still now, sitting patiently behind his cell door, waiting for the freedom that was promised. Deep down each guard feared how still he had become, as if the old mocking laughter had become a part of this place, and without it, it felt like everyone was holding their breath. No one knew what for, but they could all guess. Police had been coming and going, even commissioner Gordon had stepped in to view the cell and wing, along with his intimidatingly relaxed and towering lieutenant, Kurt Holloway. Rumours had been spreading around about the Joker's release, but to most that's all they were. Some believed that there had been a breakout attempt that they didn't know about, or that someone had tried to break in from the outside. None expected it when four men, dressed as a delivery crew showed up with the exhausted looking warden and a police order to prep the area for the removal of the Joker.

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He sat hunched in the back of the dark cell, fingers tracing the scratches on the floor, teeth clicking together tunelessly, eye's rolled up, staring at the ceiling. A silence had covered him as he waited this past month, making him tense and hungry for action. He bared his teeth in excitement as he thought of how overwhelming the flow of constant sound and stimuli would be the moment he was out in the world once more. A single thought would have crossed the mind of any man in this position; what will I do? Not the Joker, he thought only of the engaging fluidity of everything he was about to experience.

A sound; head twitches up, eyes half closed with bemused interest. The viewing slit on the cell door slides opens, noise pierces the veil of silence that shrouded the room. Not wanting the irritating silence back, he starts to chuckle silently to himself. An eye presses onto the slit, a man.

"Why isn't he restrained already?" The voice is annoyed, impatient, insecure. Warden Sullivan.

"Y'know maybe you should try it yourself doc!" Hisses the Joker, baring teeth at the door in a cross between a grimace and a grin. The eye disappears, another eye appears. A different eye, still male, but cold, pragmatic, reserved. A hard eye.

"Calm down Warden, we'll take it from here. You two, are you putting him in chains or d'you expect me to?" The voice was slow, exhausted almost, no not exhausted...resigned. The owner of this voice had seen and done a lot of bad things, but instead of freeing himself of his reservations and guilt, he simply sat back and resigned himself to it. His name was Rick Delard, and this was the man who would be in charge of moving the Joker. As the door slowly slid open, a pair of guns appeared at the other end, and one of the officers voices, warning him to stay away from the door. Excited, the Joker jumped to his feet and suddenly relaxed, his hands raising as if in slow motion and pressing on either wall, leaning forward menacingly. A medium height bald man stepped into view behind the police; the owner of the cold eyes. He looked aged, late fifties perhaps, with sagging cheeks and folds of old skin above his eyelids. Unblinking, he stared down the cell, straight into the Joker's eyes. He wasn't afraid, or effected at all by anything around him it seemed. Slowly, he opened his mouth to give instruction in that mono-tonal gruff voice.

"Alright Joker, get on your knees so these guards can cuff you, then you're coming with me and my men. We're taking you to Blackgate and we expect you to give us no grief. You clear on that?" The Joker flashed a grin at him, yellow teeth laid bare between with dulled pink scars, before suddenly becoming still and serious, mocking the man's demeanour.

"Of course I am."

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"Kurt, they're about to leave with him, make sure they keep radio contact the whole trip. I don't want a single uninformed moment as they pass through traffic." Muttered commissioner Jim Gordon as he sat by the speaker connecting him to the transport van. The Mayor had insisted that this operation be as close to the chest as possible, meaning that the streets had not been cleared, and very few people within this department had been informed. The Joker was being transported by Holloway's team in a repainted swat van that had been fitted with an intercom connection to Gordon's office and a GPS device so they could track it.

"Try not to stress so much James, it's bad for your health." Said Kurt as he lounged on the couch, a walkie talkie clutched in his hand. "This team is good, you don't need to worry."

"The Joker's smart. He might have planned for a situation like this."

"We have all his men and all his money. Now I know you're worried but for god's sake Jim, stop letting it affect you so much. You look like you haven't slept in days." Before Gordon could respond he was cut off by a gruff slow voice over the intercom.

"He's heading out of Arkham now, he'll be loaded up in under a minute." The commissioner looked anxiously over at Kurt, stress working his way through his body.

"Here we go."

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Rick stood by the back door to the van, smoking a cigarette while the guards brought the Joker down. He had been strapped to a gurney and was being wheeled through the facility, his head bagged. He wasn't moving or making any sound; the guards had sedated him for the duration of the journey. This job would be Rick's last. One last injection of cash to pay his way for the rest of his life. He planned to leave Gotham and never come back, maybe go somewhere warm on the west coast, where the sun actually shined. Crushing the cigarette under his shoe as the guards approached, he turned and looked down at the limp body in front of him.

"He out?" The guard nodded. Gently Rick removed the bag from the Joker's head and stared down at him for a moment. The skin over his scars had never healed, with pink crisscross patterns spread all over his cheeks. With his finger and thumb he pulled one eye open, checking to make sure the Joker was unconscious. Then he opened his mouth and felt around the top and bottom rows of yellow teeth for any kind of concealed item that the Joker could use. Satisfied that the Joker was clean, he put the bag back on and looked up at the guards expectantly. "Well are you gonna put him in?"

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"They've left the Asylum." Said Gordon, his knuckles white as he clutched the intercom. "They'd better be as good as you say Kurt."

"Don't you worry James," muttered Holloway under his breath, "now comes the interesting part."

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"So what're you gonna do with your cut Billy?"

"Me, I'm leaving the state for good, goin' straight down south. Gonna look into startin' up a cab company. Sick of violence in this game. You know how I-"

"Shut up both of you. Drive." Called Delard as he sat in the back of the moving van. "Say that with the intercom on and we all go home with nothing." The Joker's limp body was strapped onto the gurney, which in turn had been strapped to the van to keep it from moving. Rick was sitting on a seat to the left, staring coldly down at the mass murderer in front of him. There were four men in the team including Rick; Billy, one of the best getaway drivers in Gotham, along with Francis and Leah, two of the best gunmen and bodyguards there were.

"Sorry Rick," called Francis from his front seat, "it's just I never expected this. I mean...the Joker is legend!"

"Not for long." Said Leah, grinning down at the limp body in front of him.

"One last warning," growled Rick, "shut up until the intercom is cut."

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"They're heading down fifth. Why aren't they moving any faster?"

"More traffic than we expected Gordon," said Kurt, "it's not a problem." The commissioner shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he waited for the next update. The GPS in the van was hooked up to his desk computer, and currently it wasn't moving. He could see from one of the security camera's they had rigged along the rout that the van was caught in the middle of traffic.

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Outside the van the cold evening air was packed with cars caught in a sudden jam. A light rain had started to fall and the reflections from all the lights made the street look like a surrealist painting. Whirl after whirl of colour formed in the mess. All except the van, which sat in the middle of the traffic jam with it's lights of, looking almost lost in that busy place.

Rick glanced down at his watch as the van paused. Eight minutes had passed since leaving Arkham and the tension in the van was rising. The trip was estimated at about twenty five minutes, but with this unexpected traffic that number had risen.

"Frances, get ready to disrupt the GPS and intercom. It has to be before we turn off fifth, I don't want them knowing where we're going."

"Got it." Without showing any sign that he had heard, Rick reached into is jacket pocket, pulled out his mobile phone and hit speed dial. At his feet, the Jokers eye's moved under their lids.

"You ready?" He said when the call was answered.

"We're gonna be ready as soon as you need, just give the word." Lowering his phone slightly, he called out to Billy.

"Bill, where are we at?"

"Traffic's startin' to move! We reach the end of the street in under thirty seconds!" Rick lifted the phone again urgently, shouting the order down the line.

"Now!"

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"Traffic's moving again, they'll turn off fifth at any second." Muttered Gordon, his eyes fixed on the security screen. The whirl of Gotham traffic was moving sluggishly forwards, and the van was nearing it's designated turn off. A black and white swarm of colour moved across the screen sluggishly, seeming to take forever. Then, without warning, the screen went black.

"What...where'd the feed go?!" He pressed the intercom, "We've lost feed to the security cameras, stop the van." There was no response. Quick as ever, Kurt was up by the screen examining the blank image in front of them.

"Jim, they've cut the intercom..." Gordon froze momentarily, terror spreading through his chest.

"Jesus...they're trying to escape with him."

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"They're lost feed, so we go!" Yelled Rick. With relative ease Billy manoeuvred his way through the remaining traffic and sped off down the street to the left of the road they were supposed to take. Leaving the sound of traffic behind them, they raced off towards the rendezvous point. As the van shook back and forth, the Joker's finger twitched.

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"How the hell did they cut the feed?! Doesn't matter, get every available unit down to that area now and seal it off, that van is not getting away!" Gordon was standing next to Holloway addressing the men in the station, his natural authority kicking in now that the initial shock had worn off. They all seemed quite confused, no one had been informed of the operation prior to this, but they knew better than to ask questions when Gordon was in a state. Gently Holloway tapped Jim on the shoulder, gesturing for him to come into the corner away from the group.

"James, they'll seal it off as best they can, but we both know that there's no way that the team will still be anywhere near there. We need to assume the Joker's escaped and move from there." Gordon looked at the floor, still finding it hard to believe that this happened under his watch.

"Kurt, you hired that team. Can I trust you?"

"The team has a completely clean track record, this wasn't anything to do with me. Glad to see you're thinking smart though. You're going to need that." Gordon didn't appreciate the advice right now, he'd been betrayed more than once by members of his team and he wasn't about the make the same mistake. Still...he had known Holloway for almost four years, he had trusted him, been saved by him on more than one occasion, and he couldn't understand why he would want the Joker free.

"Ok Kurt, I'll trust you. For now. Next time screen the teams better. Now, I'll run things up here, you get down to the scene and co-ordinate things there."

"Yes sir commissioner." Said Holloway slyly as he nodded in agreement. Without saying another word he turned and headed out.

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"Christ he's heavy for such a skinny guy!" Muttered Leah as he hoisted the Joker's limp body from the back of the van while Frances and Rick stood guard. They were parked several blocks away from fifth in an unmarked garage, which they had sealed with padlocks. "You know some help would be great?" He called to Billy, who was still in the front seat of the van, his arm hanging out the side.

"Shut. Up." Growled Rick, his handgun drawn as he watched the door to the building above. Leah, though still frustrated, kept his mouth firmly closed; he knew better than to piss off Rick. They were underneath a foreclosed high rise apartment block which was awaiting demolition. The perfect place for a discreet business transaction of this nature. With an exaggerated groan Leah hoisted the Joker over one shoulder, his limp arms slapping against his belt.

"How we gonna do this Rick?" Whispered Frances, also with his gun already drawn as he watched the garage door.

"I'll go in front, Leah carries him in the middle, you bring up the rear. Keep an eye behind us, I don't want anyone sneaking up on us."

"Which floor is it?"

"Eight." Leah let out an audible groan. Slowly Rick turned and walked towards him until they were an inch apart. Leah was taller than him, but somehow he seemed to shrink under Rick's cold gaze. Gently, he spoke. "If you don't like it, you can count yourself out of the deal. Now, we can't let anyone know about this deal, so obviously we'd kill you. I'm gonna ask one time, and next time I will shoot you. Do we have a problem?" He stared straight ahead, over Ricks bald dome, his obedience evident as he nodded quickly. Slowly, Rick turned back to the door. As he did, a limp hand flexed, snatching a pen from his back pocket.

They ascended the stairwell slowly, Leah doing his best to keep quiet as he hauled the body up the steps. The building was very old and it was pitch black inside, the only light coming from the two torches held by Rick and Frances. A sickening musty smell wafted through the building, the smell of the hundreds of people who had once lived here. Silently and steadily they made their way to the eighth floor.

"Which room?" Muttered Frances, shining his light on the doors.

"Keep that light on the stairs! No one gets the drop on us," hissed Rick coldly, "and it's room six." Silently they moved across the hall with the Joker's arms slapping together on Leah's chest the only sound. The room was locked, but Rick easily kicked it open and moved in. It was empty, no tables or chairs, no furniture of any kind. Silently Rick pointed to a spot in the middle of the back wall. "Put him there." After propping the Joker up in a sitting position against the wall, Leah drew his gun and waited. Without speaking Rick pointed at him and then pointed to a spot in the shadows to the left. He then positioned Frances in the dark corner of the room right behind the door, which was still open. Standing in front of the Joker's inanimate form, he waited silently for the client.

Half an hour passed with nothing, and he began to get uneasy. The meeting time was fifteen minutes ago, and with a transaction like this punctuality was vital. However, just as he was beginning to wonder what to do if the client didn't show, footsteps were heard from the stairwell, echoing up from below. Rick cocked his head to one side, listening for backup, but there was nothing; the client was alone. No-one had met the client yet, all his business with the team had been through the corrupt police Lieutenant, Kurt Holloway. The fact that only one man was climbing those steps worried Rick; one man couldn't carry the kind of money he had been promised for the Joker. Rick cocked his gun, ready for anything. As the footsteps reached the stairwell he signalled Frances to switch of his light. Darkness fell in the room as the next minute passed. Then, slowly, a light could be seen approaching. Rick tensed up, preparing for the worst, when the light suddenly shined into the room, blinding him momentarily. As his eyes adjusted he quickly made out the figure of a very tall skinny man.

"Lower that light." Said Rick, his voice neutral. The person didn't answer, but quickly moved the beam to the ground at his feet, revealing who he was. In front of them, damp from the outside rain, stood Kurt Holloway in a cheap suit and hat, and he did not have any money with him. Rick's eyes narrowed. "Holloway? ...you're the client who wants the Joker?" Kurt smiled politely.

"Nope, not me. Good to see you again by the way. The client isn't in the country yet, and even if they were they have no intention of meeting the help."

"Fair enough. Where's the money?" He ignored the question.

"Where's your team Rick?"

"Waiting." Slowly Kurt strolled towards the Joker, looking down at the slumped form.

"Waiting? Waiting where?"

"Outside. Didn't want to make the client uneasy. Maybe I shouldn't have cared. You tell me what's going on and you get back by the door." He looked up at Rick, his expression unreadable. Slowly he straightened up and stepped away from the Joker, leaving the body in darkness as he moved towards the door.

"What's going on? You always make everything seem so...melodramatic. I'm just here to conduct business."

"If you're here for that then where's the money?" Kurt paused, before smiling apologetically down at Rick, his hand sliding into his jacket pocket.

"It's not that kind of business."

"NOW!" Yelled Rick just as Holloway began to draw his gun. With a sudden boom the door to the room slammed shut behind Kurt. There was a thud as Frances hit him from behind with the butt of his gun, the light falling to the floor and smashing, plunging them into darkness.

"Hold on a second," called Frances from the doorway, "shit...where's the damn...got it!" Suddenly the room was lit up as he switched on his torch, revealing Holloway's unconscious body at his feet. Rick had a look of pure hatred on his face.

"Son of a bitch! ...ok, we need to move, we've been double crossed and we're wanted men now. Frances you get rid of-" Suddenly his feet had no grip and he slipped forwards as he tried to take a step, cutting him off mid speech.

Reacting with lightning speed Rick drew his gun and spun around, ready for the worst. But nothing was coming. A dark liquid had pooled around his feet, coming from somewhere in the shadows. His breath caught in his chest as Frances moved the beam of light slowly over the puddle of liquid, finally showing it's source. Crumpled in the corner lay Leah's dead body, the end of Rick's pen sticking out of his neck. Blood was slowly pouring from him, filling up that corner of the room. His knife was missing, and the Joker was gone.

"Shit." He muttered. Frances was speechless, he had known Leah for years. "Guard the door, don't let him get out." Whispered Rick, as he slowly began to move forward, his torch in one hand lighting his way, his gun in the other. The room they were in was empty, so Rick slowly moved through the door behind Leah's body, making sure the beam of light hit every corner of the room. There was no furniture for the Joker to hide behind in this room either, only darkness. The hairs on Rick's neck prickled as he moved. One mistake, one wrong step and it could be his last. Silence seemed to pierce him as he moved through the thick darkness. He quickly shined his light over every patch of darkness in the room, revealing nothing; the Joker wasn't here. Quickly Rick backed out into the main room and edged back to where Frances was standing by the door.

"Nothing in there, I'm going to search the other rooms." He whispered over his shoulder, shining his light at the other doors. "Damn him...how the hell was he able to kill Leah without us noticing?"

"Try not yelling." Said Frances from behind him in an amused, raspy, nasal tone. Not his, screamed a voice in Rick's head, and he spun as quickly as he could, but not quick enough. With lightning reflexes the Joker knocked the gun from his hands and kicked him into the wall, pressing a bloody knife to his throat. Behind him lay Frances, blood seeping out of a single red cut in his temple. His arm holding the torch was trapped between the Joker and Rick's body, lighting the Joker's face from below. Two raw twisted scars were an inch away from him, casting distorted shadows over the Jokers wide eyes, which were alive with glee. In-between the scars his mouth was stretched into a broad grin. He lent inward and whispered into Rick's ear.

"You're a tough guy aren't you Rick? Y...Y'know I knew a tough guy once. It's a funny story. No really! It's how I got these scars. Y'see, in my wild youth...I used to run with a street gang. We'd rob...steal...make problems for people just for fun. But this one time...I steal from the wrong guy. He catches me...he says, you think it's funny stealing from me? An' I say no...an' I'm terrified. He doesn't listen, he gets a knife...sticks it in my mouth an he starts cutting this," he pointed at his scars with the knife, "into me. While he does it he keeps yelling...You think it's funny now!? Is this funny now?!" As he spoke the Joker slowly slid the knife into Rick's mouth. Saliva trickled down his chin as he stared blankly into the Joker's eyes, refusing to show his fear. The Joker frowned, tilting his head to the side inquisitively. "What's the matter? I told you my story was funny, you should be laughing! Don't you think it's funny?" With hellish ease the knife slid through his trembling cheeks, the Joker shaking with high pitched laughter as he sliced. Then, with brutal finality, he drove the knife through Rick's eye. Letting the body slump to the ground, the Joker stepped back, a bemused smile crossing his lips as the boredom began to creep back in. Looking around the room he noticed Holloway's unconscious form and grinned, reaching for his suit jacket. Licking his lips, he stood up straight and took a deep breath. Quickly his eyes flicked down to Rick's body, the knife still sticking out of his eye. He ginned.

"What d'you think Rick? Time for some romance?"

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Gordon had been waiting to hear back from Holloway for almost an hour, and he was beginning to fear that he had run. Something inside him didn't want to believe that Kurt had known about this, but it just didn't feel right. The Joker had been missing for too long now, and he knew that this would all be on his own head. The Mayor hadn't been in contact yet, but the moment he found out all hell would break loose for Gordon. Unless he could catch him in time. He had to think, if the Joker had escaped, where would he go first? After thinking for a few minutes he gave up; it was futile trying to predict the unpredictable. However, just as he was about to try and call Holloway again, a thought occurred to him. Urgently he stood up and rushed out of his office. Only one detective was in the room outside, and he was already heading for the door.

"You, stop. I need you to do something." The man turned and looked sheepishly up at the commissioner, his hand clutching his hat. He had obviously been trying to slip out of work unnoticed.

"Uh, I was just heading home commissioner, my wife's making dinner tonight."

"Sorry detective, but you're all I've got it seems. I need to stay to co-ordinate things here, so I need you to go to the apartment of Doctor Harleen Quinzel and bring her back here. Think you can do that son?" The detective nodded, putting hat on and grabbing his coat.

"Who is she?"

"She's a psychiatrist, and a person of interest. I believe her life may be danger. We need to get her here and under protective custody as quickly as possible."

"Alright, you got an address?"

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Harleen had slept very little over the last few weeks. She didn't have any new clients yet, and at first was grateful for the respite, but boredom had slowly crept into her very bones and she couldn't seem to shake it no matter what she did. Tentatively her and Jamie had been able to re-connect, though their friendship with still very tense. She had yet to see Kaylee again, who according to Jamie was a bit afraid of her. Despite wanting to sort things out with him, Harleen slightly enjoyed the thought of Kaylee being afraid. While she had been with the Joker everything had felt so out of her control, but in truth everything was her's to control during that time. The only reason she had felt that way is because of the fear, panic and curiosity that the Joker was able to force into her during their sessions. He'd controlled her emotions and she hadn't been able to stop him, even with all her training.

"How glad I am that he's out of my life." Harleen whispered to herself, for the millionth time. No matter how often she said it, she still couldn't shake that feeling of loss, and it made her very uneasy. Hopping off the bed where she had thrown herself after half an hour of mindless pacing, she strolled over to the mirror, taking a few moments to examine herself. She was wearing a white tank top and black shorts, the comfiest things she had laying around. Her blonde hair had begun to creep over shoulders, and the ends were curling slightly. She had lost weight too, her muscle tone had lessened since she stopped going to gymnastics and her ribs were showing more than usual. Just as she frowned and ran her fingers over them the phone began to ring. Jamie maybe? She couldn't be sure who would want to call her at this hour of the night. With ease she jumped from the mirror to the couch and picked up the phone.

"Doctor Quinzel speaking." She said in a serious tone. She had always enjoyed the title.

"Doctor this is commissioner Gordon, I want you to listen very carefully to me ok?"

"Ok..." She muttered tentatively, wondering what could have happened.

"The Joker escaped today," panic shot through her body, "and I suspect that you might be in danger." The phone slipped from her fingers, falling onto the couch, but she couldn't move to pick it up. Fear held her in place like a vice. Escaped...how? He's going to come for me...I need to know what the commissioner was saying! Quickly she picked the phone back up. "Hello? Doctor?"

"What do I do? The Joker can get to anyone."

"Not yet he can't, when he committed his major crimes he had huge amounts of stolen cash at his disposal and an army of hired thugs. He's got nothing right now, meaning there's a chance for us to bring him in. Now I've sent a detective to your apartment to bring you here, do not open the door for anyone else, understand?"

"Ok. What's he wearing so I know who he is?"

"Grey suit and an' a matching grey Trilby. Standard for a detective."

"Ok."

"You haven't heard any noises, no disturbances of any kind?"

"No."

"Alright doctor...well he should be there at any minute. Hang up and lock the door."

"Ok." Harleen dropped the phone without hanging up and threw herself towards the door, locking it with chain and key. Grabbing the nearest chair she rammed it under the door handle, before stepping back and beginning to pace. Every few seconds she stopped to look through the eye hole in the door. How had the Joker escaped? The commissioner hadn't said. It didn't matter to Harleen though, she should have expected it. Somehow the Joker seemed to be able to subvert any system, break any rule, no matter how hard. He defied everything the law worked to achieve.

Just as she was beginning to fear he wouldn't come, a knock was heard on the door, two quick taps. Harleen jumped at the sound, and she quickly grabbed the nearest kitchen knife before darting to the door and peeking through the eyepiece. At first she couldn't see anything, making her even more afraid, before she spotted a man low down tieing his shoe. He was wearing a grey suit and hat. The Detective. Tossing the knife onto the couch behind her she wrenched the chair from the door and unlocked it.

"Well you took your time!" She hissed coldly, her fear making her angry. The detective finished tying his shoe and very slowly straightened up. His suit was cheap and tattered, as if he'd been in a fight. There was a dark red stain on the leg. It had been soaked in blood. There was a gun in his left hand. The other hand was on the brim of his hat, tilting it down over his face. As if in slow motion, though it must have been so fast in reality, he tilted the hat up, revealing himself. Two long, curved scars stretched from either side of his mouth, his yellow teeth visible in a sick grin, his eyes wide with intensity.

"Came as quickly as I could!" His hand shot up, the pistol hitting the side of her head. A shot of pain, and then oblivion.


	8. Disorientation

Chapter Eight

Harleen returned to consciousness with a dulled buzzing in her ears, like the sound of an electric toothbrush. She couldn't move, her muscles wouldn't listen to her. She couldn't even find the strength to open her eyes. Everything felt far away; dulled and hazy. Slowly her thoughts returned to her, piece by piece. She'd been taken by the Joker, a fact that she was still too exhausted to care about right now. He would do something to her, and she would probably die at the end of it. Forcing that thought through her head again and again she tried to provoke some reaction from her body. Even fear would be a better response than the unfeeling bleakness she felt right now. Her brain was thinking again, but it wasn't feeling yet. Desperate to move, she decided to focus on the sound in her ears in an attempt to clear her head. It no longer sounded like a buzz, it was a long drone that got louder and louder as she regained consciousness until it reached a point that it was deafening She wanted to cover her ears, block it out somehow, but she still couldn't find the strength to move. Suddenly she realised what it was, and the realisation was enough to snap her out of her head and back into reality. Somewhere very close to her, someone was screaming.

"Wake up Harley!" She tried to say aloud, though what actually came out of an incoherent slur. With great effort she managed to slightly open one eye, at last giving her some sense of spatial awareness. She was sitting upright against a radiator, her legs splayed out in front of her. Pain was throbbing in her left wrist, which had been handcuffed to the radiator at an awkward angle. The room she was in was disgusting; old and dilapidated peeling and chipped brown paint, smashed and boarded up windows, and an almost unquantifiable amount of rubbish. But what shocked her most was the people laying in the rubbish, unmoving but breathing.

"What...wher...this place..." Harleen mumbled, still too weak to string together a solid sentence. The screaming was still there, ricocheting around her head, deafening her. Slowly she became aware of another sound. Somewhere next to her she could hear strange high pitched whimpering sounds that defied classification. Turn your head, she told herself silently. If you want to get through this you need to know what's going on, so turn your head. With a sudden burst of effort she jerked her head to the left, her muscles shreaking in shock. The sight that met her eyes made her wish she hadn't. Further down the wall an extremely skinny man had been tied to an old chair. One of the legs was broken leaving him at an awkward angle. His face and wrists were covered in sickening scabs. A junkie. So that's what this place was, and who all those people laying in the rubbish were; smacked out junkies who weren't aware of anything around them. In front of the screaming man stood the Joker, his hands on the junkie's face, shaking the head hard. He was still wearing the suit, and his face was clear apart from the blood. His mouth was closed in a slight smile, and he was making high giggling sounds in his throat. Blood was all over his hands; the Junkie's face was covered in fresh cuts. He was torturing him, whispered a dulled voice in her head. Suddenly the Jokers eyes flicked up, catching hers. His smile vanished, as did his laughter. Slowly he let go of the junkie's bleeding face, who's screaming had changed into strange whimpering hooting sound. This man was obviously already suffering from withdrawal. Straightening up, eyes still fixed on Harleen's exhausted form, the Joker rammed his elbow into the man's temple causing him to pass out as the chair toppled sideways. His face unmoving, he slowly stepped towards Harleen, his eyes not leaving hers. A whimper caught in the back of her throat and she clenched her eyes tight, waiting for the same treatment as the junkie. Instead she felt cold fingers forcing here eye open, the Joker an inch away from her.

"Look at me." He whispered. She rolled her eye into her head, unwilling to look into his piercing gaze. Suddenly her head jerked to the side and pain shot through her cheek; he had slapped her. "Look at me." Slowly she opened her eyes and stared into his. "You like watching me hurt him?"

"N...no. No no no..." She muttered. Her eyes began to dart around the room looking for some way out of this situation, something, anything. Her fingers clenched and unclenched, scrabbling on the cement floor.

"That'll change soon enough." Slowly he ran his fingers over her cheek, which was still stinging. His face was still blank. "Shhh...calm down. Sleep now little Harlequin. The game'll be ready soon."

"Sleep?" She whispered, unable to imagine ever sleeping here. The Joker's hard expression softened and a slight smile crossed his lips. He looked almost caring. Harleen's body began to relax under this gaze.

"Yeah. Sleep tight." He tilted his head and smiled, before his fist struck the side of her head and she was plunged back into oblivion.

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The morning after the Joker's escape was all phone calls. James Gordon had spent hours checking with every source he knew, trying to find someone who might have seen the Joker or Quinzel during the night. Gordon had visited Harleen's apartment after getting the call from the detective he had sent. The door was left wide open but there was no sign of forced entry. Inside there was no sign of any foul play either. But just has they had been leaving they had spotted a graduation photo of Harleen stuck to the back of the door. It had been coloured in so that she was wearing the Joker's makeup, and on the underside a note was scrawled in a wild hand; 'For your sake commissioner, better hope she doesn't come back!'. The photo was in the lab right now being examined for fingerprints. Gordon had no idea what it might mean, but it chilled him to think about it. Had Quinzel been working with the Joker all along? No...he didn't believe that, her fear when he had told her of Joker's escape was genuine. He had to be found before he hurt her.

Holloway still hadn't returned, and Jim had begun to fear that he really had run, or worse. According to the men on scene of the escape he hadn't shown up at all. He had tried calling him, but there was no response. People were out looking for him, but Gordon was forced to wait here for the Mayor's impending call. It frustrated him so much to be sitting here waiting while he should be out searching. The Joker had been gone one night and already two people were missing. Something had to be done, but he was powerless. No one could predict what the Joker might do, and Gordon wasn't fool enough to try. The phone began to ring loudly, shocking him out of his thoughts. Wiping his brow Jim stared down at the phone for a split second, a hard expression on his face, before answering.

"Have you found him yet?" Mayor Garica's voice was harsh and cold.

"Not yet...he's gone underground, no sightings."

"Right...how many people know it's him they're looking for?"

"They're looking for the van and the team, they don't know it's him yet. But mayor-"

"Good, keep it that way. No one needs to know it's him, it'll only cause panic." Gordon rested his head in his arms, stress working over him.

"How is that responsible? All due respect mayor, people need to be warned!" There was a brief pause on the other line before he responded, sounding as exhausted as Jim.

"You said he has no money or resources. That means you have some time before he can pull anything large scale. Find him before then commissioner."

"And if I can't?"

"Then god help the people of this city." There was so much strain in his voice, it sounded as if sleep had eluded him. He sounded husky and raw. Gordon, not wanting to give up, tried one last time.

"There's got to be some other way to do this...People need to be on alert."

"This is how it's going to be Jim, don't fight it. The order comes from way above me anyway. One other thing, I've re-instated the funding for Arkham. It stays open, and for now if anyone asks, the Joker is still there."

"You want me to lie? I wont do it."

"You have to," he said sadly, "I'm sorry Jim. Now go find him." The line went dead, leaving Jim alone with the knowledge that he would be forced to keep this lie. Another devastating truth to lock away for the safety of Gotham.

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Kurt Holloway had scrabbled through the alleys for hours until he reached his home, desperate not to be seen. The police would be searching for him, but he had no way to explain why he had vanished yet, and he needed to contact the client as soon as possible. Kurt had always been relaxed and calm, even in a crisis, but the thought of upsetting the client shook even him to the core. It had been three hours since he had woken up in the old apartment block without his suit and gun, covered in blood. Thankfully none of it was his. Somehow the Joker had managed to kill all three men in that confined space while he was out cold. Around the dead bodies he had written 'HA HA HA' in the victims' blood. Downstairs the driver's head had been cracked open on the steering wheel. It scared him to see Rick, the most professional man he had ever met, dead with a hole in his left eye and a smile cut into his face. He didn't know why the Joker had left him alive, but there must have been some reason. He had quickly dressed himself in Rick's clothes, which, though to small for him, had the least blood on them. He also pulled a gun from Frances' still corpse, hiding it under his shirt. As he left the room after wiping any areas where he might have left prints, he noticed the message on the back of the door. In blood two words had been smeared; 'Smile Holloway'.

Finally Kurt had reached his home, exhaustion and what was probably concussion taking it's toll on him. Slowly he leaned around the corner, not wanting to be spotted in Rick's bloodstained clothes.

"No...come on guys!" He muttered in frustration as he noticed the police car outside his home, with two men inside. So going home wasn't an option, but he needed to change his clothes and get to a computer as soon as possible. He doubled back, peering at the houses down the street. He had always had a knack for knowing other peoples schedules and habits and he had known a few people on this street adjacent to his. Two houses down a young Indian man named Nihal worked as a high end computer technician and lived alone. Holding his breath, he decided to make a move. He put on a limp, which wasn't hard in his present state, and stumbled up to the door, hammering on it with his fists.

"Help me please!" He called, his voice full of desperation. The door quickly opened part way, a chain lock stopping it. Inside a medium height puffy faced man stared out, his expression nieve and shocked. He wore small rectangular glasses and had short messy hair in a bowl cut, and thick scraggly stubble, which made the fact that it was impossible to distinguish between his neck and jaw even more obvious. "Please," Holloway pleaded, "I've been attacked, I need help!" Nihal's eyes widened when he saw the blood smeared across Kurt's torso.

"Mr Holloway? The Detective? I worked on your computer!" He seemed to be in a state of shock.

"Yes, you did. Please can I come in and lay down and could you call an ambulance?"

"Oh uh, y-yes of course! Come, come, lay down on the couch! Just through there, I'll get the phone." He rushed off down the hall and into what looked like the kitchen. Kurt paused and checked the street before going in; empty. He slowly walked in and closed the door, following Nihal into the Kitchen. The walls in the hall were lined with framed movie posters, and eclectic collection of science fiction films and Alfred Hitchcock. It would be easy to miss the tiny photograph of Nihal with his parents and grandparents in Mumbai amongst all the colour and glamour. Quickly he peeked into the living room, and noted the powerful looking PC near the back wall, which had what looked like a word document open at the moment. The room was predominantly wires criss-crossing between power points and a large couch in the middle. Making his decision, Kurt turned and headed into the kitchen. Nihal had just reached the phone and was about to dial. Slowly Kurt reached down and picked up a pillow from the chair next to the door. At this point Nihal noticed him.

"You missed the living room, the couch is in there. Do you feel ok?" He didn't seem to know what to do or say, and was panicing slightly.

"Actually I feel like crap, but thanks for the concern. You'll probably feel worse though."

"What do you-" He stopped mid sentence as Kurt's bullet passed through his brain, spraying blood across the wall in a fine mist. The body crumpled forwards into a heap underneath the phone, which was left swinging wildly from its cord. A blackened hole had been bored through the pillow, which Holloway had used to silence the shot. Without blinking twice he dropped the pillow left the kitchen, heading for the computer in the living room. Sitting down in the desk chair he paused for a moment, taking time to spin from side to side on the chair while he thought. Nihal's death was necessary this wasn't the time for any hesitation, not when his own life was on the line. He let that thought sink in before moving on. He needed to contact the client. The Joker's escape could not be allowed. Spinning to the screen, he set to work.

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The second time Harleen woke, it was silent. Immediately she became aware of the awful, painful throbbing in her forehead where she had been struck twice in the past several hours. Her mouth tasted stale and her head hung heavy. Dehydration had set in leaving her whole body feeling as if it were weighted down. Thought quickly returned to her limp form, which in turn woke her body. Harleen could hardly comprehend that all this had happened to her, only hours ago she had been sitting in her apartment, wondering where her life would go without the Joker in it. In her exhausted and delirious state this thought made her giggle to herself. Her inanimate body shook slightly sending stinging pain through her wrist. She yelped and slowly lifted her head, looking up at it, her long blonde hair getting into her eyes and making her blink furiously The handcuffs had worn through the skin on the underside of her wrist, which was red and and bleeding. A fold of peeled off skin was bunched around the edge of the cuff. The sight made her retch slightly; she wasn't used to blood and gore, however minor. With much effort she lifted her arm slightly, taking some of the strain off her wrist. With her free arm she placed her palm flat on the ground and pushed herself backwards until she was sitting upright against the radiator an extremely painful task which required all of her effort. For a few moments she stared thoughtlessly into the space in front of her, before suddenly realising all of the people had disappeared. Her brow knitted with worry and confusion; there had been over twelve people in here before, where had they all gone? How long had she been out?

"Tricked em'...locked em' up in the cellar." Muttered a dry, dehydrated voice to Harleen's left. "Don' know what he's plannin'. I don't wanna' die." Slowly her eyes rolled in their sockets until she could see it's source, the junkie who was being tortured before. The chair he was tied to was still on it's side on the ground, and one side of the man's face was pressed hard into the floor. A deep gash from the Joker's knife ran from one cheek, over the bridge of his nose, and onto the other cheek. It had started to dry and gum over slightly. How revolting, Harleen thought to herself distastefully She looked away and around the room carefully; the Joker was nowhere to be seen. She looked back.

"...Where has he gone?"

"Th' laughing one?" Said the Junkie, struggling to speak with one side of his face flat on the ground. Harleen frowned in disbelief.

"The Joker." His eyes widened and began to blink rapidly.

"Thas'...he's...he's the...oh Jesus, Jesus..." He began to cry, tears pooling in his eye socket and seeping into his wounds. Even though she had been beaten and handcuffed to a radiator, she couldn't understand this man's reaction. Surely the Joker is better than a random brutal psychopath. At least with the Joker there's a chance you might survive. A slim chance. This whole experience seemed to have numbed Harleen slightly.

"You're surprised " She hissed coldly. "Even without makeup the Joker's...distinctive. How long has he been gone?" He didn't respond, or even give any sign that he had heard He cried and begged and pleaded into the air for mercy, his drug addled and terrified mind thrown into a state of panic. The whimpering drawl set Harleen's teeth on edge, and in her already very stressed, tired, and bruised state she had no patience left for this cowering junkie.

"Quiet." She muttered under her breath. The whimpering continued. Harleen couldn't think. Too much noise. "Quiet!" Still he cried, oblivious to her. Frustration and panic began to seep into her head, making her hate him. "Shut up..." she whispered, "shut up...shut up! Shut up you stupid junkie shut up! Shut up shut up SHUT UP YOU WORTHLESS STUPID...shut up...SHUT UP!" She couldn't stop screaming, her anger boiling over until it overwhelmed her completely. She began kicking her feet in his direction and tearing at her handcuffs furiously, not feeling the pain in her wrist. He didn't stop crying though, he didn't hear anything. Both of them were being torn apart by their fear. It was then that Harleen heard a door slam shut behind her. The junkie shut up immediately, paralysed by terror. Harleen kept yelling though, she had to stay angry, she had to keep fighting. "STUPID WORTHLESS JUNKIE I'LL KILL YOU GO AWAY I'LL KILL YOU!" Footsteps were moving towards her. "YOU SHUT UP! ...you shut up shut up I hate you I hate...you...I hate..." she began to cry and sob as the footsteps approached, her whole body shaking with fear and exhaustion, "...leave me alone...stupid girl stupid junkie stupid Jok-" Suddenly she was cut off as a hand grabbed her by the jaw and turned her head until she was staring into the Joker's half closed eyes. Still wearing the bloody old suit and hat, he looked like an office worker who had been through a very rough day.

"Shh...quiet down Harley." He muttered, sounding amused. Her crying stopped instantly, as did her breathing, and she froze, unable to act or think. His breath touched her cheeks, and his eyes were darting all over her face, looking at it's every quivering contusion. Finally his eyes settled on hers and he became still again.

"...please..." she began, but was unable to go on. The Joker raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to one side comically, waiting for her to finish.

"Hmm? Please...what? No? Nothing? Not even a just a little hint, huh? No? Okay." In a painful jerking movement he let go of her face and walked over to the Junkie, who was whimpering under his breath. In one flowing movement he drew his leg back and kicked the man in the head without breaking stride, shutting him up. He continued to the other side of the room and grabbed an old chair that was resting upside down over a broken tv set, before bringing it back and putting it down in front of Harleen. With his right hand he ruffled her hair before sitting down on the chair. "Now-" He began menacingly, but he was cut short when one of the chair legs snapped off, sending him tumbling onto is back. Laughter burst out of him has he lay there splayed awkwardly on the ground, his arms still in the air. The sheer randomness of the event broke the barrier of fear that had kept Harleen frozen in place. A single expulsion of air escaped her, followed by another, and another until she too was laughing with him. Delirious with exhaustion and stress and pain, she was unable to contain or control herself. The Joker rocked on his back, shaking with wild laughter while she almost screamed with laughter, releasing some of the stress and fear inside her. Eventually the laughter died down, leaving Harleen exhausted but feeling strangely good, and wanting to sleep. The Joker sat up and threw the chair out of his way towards the unconscious Junkie, still giggling to himself. "I'll just sit here then?" He muttered, motioning to the spot in front of Harleen. He seemed to be waiting for a response.

"Okay..." She whispered, her voice sore from the yelling. The Joker jumped into that spot and crossed his legs. Suddenly he stopped giggling, and he fixed her with a serious glare.

"Now-" He began menacingly for the second time, however this time just the thought of it broke his composure and he began to laugh again. Harleen smiled and giggled quietly, too exhausted to do any more The Joker however seemed to have an endless amount of energy, as he suddenly grabbed her by the hair and started to shake her head painfully as he laughed. Eventually he stopped and let go, putting his hands down on his lap, as he giggled to himself and stared into space. His hat sat at a jaunty angle. Harleen was crying and whimpering slightly from the pain in her scalp. The Joker seemed oblivious at first.

"Y'see Harley! Why scream when you can laugh? Oh c'mon quiet down. Isn't this so much better than you expected You didn't end up like him." He pointed at the junkie, his eyes still staring at Harleen.

"What do you want with me?" She whispered, barely able to speak.

"Me?" He said incredulously, pointing to himself. "Well what I want is simple. I want you to see the truth."

"You want me to...understand chaos?" She said, taking a stab in the dark. He grinned, leaning down to her level.

"I want you to see the truth about yourself Harley. Y'see, when someone...is like you, a person who...lies and doesn't care about other people or themselves or morality...is impulsive, controls people just for fun...then they become self destructive and uh, very very bored. Often. I want you to see that there's only three ways a girl like you can turn out. First," he raised one finger, "you spend the rest of your life bored, depressed and not satisfied. An' y'know, that's...that's no fun. Second," he raised two fingers, "you kill yourself one day. I dunno if that's appealing to you? No? Okay, then third," he raised three fingers, "you stop living with rules, stop going to work, stop keeping yourself contained...cause you're a time bomb Harley! An' if you don't let go soon, something's gonna blow, y'know?"

"But...how can you tell that's what I'm like? Why do you even care?"

"Care?" His eyes narrowed. "That's the first thing I let go of. I don't care about you lil' Harley! I'm just curious...to...to find out if I'm right. Again. An' y'know, you're good for a laugh."

"But...just because I'm like this doesn't mean I'm going to become like you." Said Harleen desperately. The Joker blinked, raising one eyebrow.

"Mmmn...I would be so hasty when you say that beautiful. You really wouldn't know what it takes to be like me. But don't worry, you will soon." He said, pressing his figner into the middle of her forehead. "I'll show you."


End file.
